Drabble Rabble
by dreamerchaos
Summary: A vareity of drabbles inspired by transformers pairing generator, and in general my madness and curiosity. SLASH. STICKY abound.
1. Chapter 1

_**Drabbles Alert (Transformers)**_  
Title: Drabbles  
Disclaimer: Not mine!  
Summary: Pairing generator is love. Slash!  
Note: I'm going to be realllllly stringent on the adult stuff. I'm listing this one under that label so underaged people can't read. Sorry, but I'm protecting you, and myself.

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Shockwave / Red Alert / picnic

_"It's a complete waste of our time, and just think of the lack of security..."_

"Aww..come on, Red. What's wrong with a bit of fun?" Inferno cajoles his friend, white face spread wide to bare a broad grin.

Red Alert scowled. "And what is this...picnic thing. An organic custom? Inferno, we would stand out like a sore thumb."

"But it's fun." Inferno doesn't hesitate to begin a petulant whine. "Spike and 'Bee told us all about it yesterday, remember? And Spike invited the Autobots! There won't be any other organics around to see us."

"That's what they want you to think." Red Alert mutters.

"Aww, Red. Really." Inferno sighs, teasing the other mech by wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "what's the worse that could happen?"

"What Are You Doing?"

Red Alert flinched in his seat as he is pulled from a hidden memory file in his memory banks, fingers rapidly hitting a series of keys to minimize the digital image and fill the monitor screen with several lines of commands. "N-nothing, sir."

He shrinks into himself, desperately wishing to melt into the tall seat. A large shadow engulfs him from behind, the large Decepticon, Megatron's second in command, hovering behind the timid mech.

"Really?" Shockwave's blaster hand clips his left shoulder, the entire appendage settling around his shoulders and neck like an iron noose. The Decepticon leans forward, over his seated subordinate, right hand initiating the command to call up the monitor screen.

To his horror, the digitized image returns to the screen, and Inferno's smile visage stares back at Red Alert.

Red Alert flinches as the arm enwrapping his neck tightens subtly. "What Is This?" Shockwave demands.

"...a friend..." He gulps out past the firm weight against his esophageal tract, hunkering down in trepidation.

Violet fingers threaten to dent his chin, Red Alert's head turned at an awkward angle to meet the Decepticon's single optic.

"You Were Captured By Megatron's Forces And Delivered To Cybertron, Into My Care, For A Reason." Shockwave leans over the red and white mech, completely swallowing the shivering form with the ominous air that stole Red Alert's words from his vocal processor. "A Security Officer Of Your Talent Is Extremely Rare, And I Require...No. I _Demand_ Your Assistance, Red Alert.

"I Do Not Tolerate Gross Negligence...Nor Do I Tolerate A Remote Hint That You Are Pining For Your Comrades." Shockwave's optic dims momentarily, the mech falling into deep thought. "Perhaps...I Could Request That Megatron Locate This Particular Mech..." He nods his head in the digital image's direction, "In The Prison Ward, And Slot The Mech For Immediate Termination, Since He Obviously Consumes Your Thoughts, Thus Interfering With Your Work."

A sharp, startled gasp. Shockwave's fingers finally dent into his facial plates, streaking the white pain. "NO!" Red Alert pleads. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again. Please!"

"...I Will Wait On That Decision. For Now." The Decepticon warns.

"Thank you, Lord Shockwave." He releases the punishing grip upon Red Alert's face.

Red Alert cringes, however, waiting, anticipating, and ultimately enduring the brush of Decepticon's fingers tracing the line of his cheek in a soft, almost cruelly tender brush.

His chair is spun around, Shockwave filling the entirety of his optical screens, pinning the seated mech between the tall back and the Decepticon insignia stenciled into Shockwave's broad chest.

"Are You Ready To Thank Me For My Generous Mercy, Red Alert?" Shockwave inquires, hand skimming, slowly, torturously slow, down the front of his chassis, tickling over his grill.

Red Alert's engine sputters, dermal plates rippling beneath the tracking fingertips as they breach the tight seam of his locked thighs.

_'Oh, Inferno.'_ Red Alert bows his head, relaxing limbs enough for the hand to slide deeper, brushing the concealed surface of an access port. He hides his face against the crook of Shockwave's neck as the mech presses close to establish deeper contact. _'I think things are far worse than either of us could have ever dreamed.'_

_

* * *

_

The Transformers 2007 Movie Random Pairing Generator - Major Characters Version

Megatron / Optimus Prime / unworthy

"You should feel honored, Prime." Megatron hisses, broad hand splaying over the sealed compartment of the Autobot's chest plates.

Optimus refuses to respond, twisting his head away. His dermal facial plates were laid bare to the Decepticon's tender mercy, the Autobot leader's battle mask brutally ripped from its sheaths when Prime had previously refused to reveal his face to his captor.

"Most mechs are unworthy of my attentions." He shudders, fuel pump churning, filled with cold spikes of disgust and terror as sharp fangs brush the smooth edge of his cheek.

_Where had they gone wrong?_ He wonders.

"You provided me with an opportunity that I would not dare ignore." Megatron, seemingly capable of reading his rival's mind, and continues to taunt the bound mech, "All of your efforts, wasted. You and the rest of your soldiers arrived on this planet far too late."

Suddenly Optimus' entire body bucks, from the sharp connection of Megatron brutally establishing connection - interface cable snapping home into his access port - while a low sound of pain follows from the screeching drag of talons raking down his chest plates.

_"Did you really think these organic insects could contain me forever!"_

Prime's hands fist, twisting within their restraints, the crude chains denting blue and red paint.

"This base that once held me, is now my latest stronghold." Megatron finds pleasure in boasting of his success.

But yet he finds even more pleasure in wringing out small sounds of frustration/pleasure/agony from his pet, pressing forward until their chests impact, nestling his codpiece against Prime's, waist entrapped within the tangle of the Autobot's long, strong limbs.

His other hand forms a cage around the back of the mech's blue helm, talons clacking against the smooth, brilliant hued paint. "Just remember that I am the only one preventing your precious soldiers from enduring my warriors' pleasures." Megatron warns, red-hot optics transfixing sapphire blue. "All I need to do is give the command...I'm sure Blackout is most eager to dig his talons into your medic..."

A metallic, rippling sob of air escaped Prime's vents, shoulders slumping in defeat, the small trembling resistance collapsing under the threat to his friends and soldiers. "A-As you wish...Megatron."

A loud rumbling purr trickles from Megatron's chest, dermal plates heating with excitement. "Such a good pet." He compliments.

* * *

The Transformers 2007 Movie Random Pairing Generator - Major Characters Version

Megatron / Optimus Prime / neurosis

You plague me, Prime.

You're like a disease. A cancer eating away at my dermal plates.

A neurosis that haunts my CPU every waking orn.

There is no cure for this sickness.

And yet I would wish for no antidote for your poison.

After...all. Finally, you are _mine_ at last.

"Brother...why..."

Megatron runs talons along collar bone struts in a soothing gesture, nudging the bowed head upwards in order to gaze deeply into cloudy sapphire optics. "The Council is composed of senile fools." He whispers darkly, pressing close to his..._his_ Prime. "This must be done. For the good of Cybertron. For the good of all mechs."

Optimus' head lolls, snared deep within the cold embrace of the implanted virus, physique and CPU greatly weakened, allowing Megatron an endless amount of time to shift and fashion the fellow mech into any desirable position upon the throne seated at Megatron's right hand. "T-the...all...AllSparkkk..." Prime is unable to connect his words, sentences slurring.

"Under my control once again." Megatron intercedes. "No thanks to your efforts, though. What were you thinking, to try to dispatch the AllSpark off the planet?" He demands.

"......n-No choizzz...lleeffft.."

He sighs, disappointed. "And because of your actions, I must assure that you are properly contained until such thoughts no longer infect your CPU."

"Pleazzz!" Optimus jolts, head thrown back. Megatron catches him before he slips from his seat. "...don..don't doooo thhiizz, _Brother_--"

"You make this harder for the both of us, Prime." Megatron warns, before slipping his talons between thick cables, and hitting the proper receptors.

Immediately Prime stiffens, optics brightening in pain and surprise, before sharply falling dark. His arms fall slack, limply collapsing all the way into Megatron's arms, forced into emergency lock down.

Megatron's red optics catches the red visor gaze staring back stoicly from the deep recesses of the corner of his throne room. "Indicate for the soldiers to proceed with the attack upon the Council, Soundwave. _And bring me prisoners this time_."

"As My Lord Commands." Soundwave bows, fist overlaying his Spark.

Megatron doesn't not bother to watch the officer retreat from his chambers, instead tracing the sweeping lines of Prime's reposed face, flicking the edges of the inlaid flames dressing the front of Optimus' chassis.

_'You're an obsession, Prime.'_ He does not hold a scrap of shame in making that admittance. _'But at least you are mine.'_

_

* * *

_

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Thrust / Red Alert / club

"What's this, then?" The voice startles Red Alert from his crouch behind a large column of boulders, trying to take cover from the wild volleys of fire between the Decepticons and Autobots.

He shouts in surprise and indignation as he is lifted up into the air, hands scooping him up from behind, encircling his upper arms.

"A little Autobot who strayed from the herd?" Thrust snickers, not bothering to worry about the other Autobots desperately running towards him and his captive as he takes flight, the soldiers not daring to fire their blasters in fear of clipping their fellow Autobot.

"Let go of me!" Red Alert gasps, kicking helplessly with his legs as the ground continues to rapidly fall away, his companions becoming tiny spots upon the earth. "Let go of me this instant, you miserable slag heap!"

"So cruel!" Thrust whines in mock indignation. He remains in his bipedal form the maintain a better grip on his struggling captive. Recognizing the roar of a familiar engine, he looks over as his Trine mate, Ramjet, pulls alongside, the other Decepticon curious about what Thrust was lugging. "Did you hear what he called me, RJ?" He demands.

"I told you that I hate that nickname." Ramjet mutters acidly. He performs a barrel roll in his jet form, edging closer to get a better look at the cursing Autobot. "Are you planning on delivering him to Megatron?" He asks, curious.

Red Alert stiffens noticeably at the Decepticon leader's name. Thrust chuckles.

"Maayyybbbee." He purrs. "Just think! Megatron will be beside himself when we deliver Prime's precious Security officer!"

Dirge appears on the opposite side of Thrust, tilting a wing towards the captive. "You're scaring him, Thrust." He indicates the mech who is trembling violently within Thrust's grip, biting his bottom lip tight, energon pooling within the shallow cuts.

"Awwww..." Ramjet coos in mock sympathy. "Don't be afraid, little Autobot. Maybe if you plead nicely, Megatron will let us keep you as a pet."

Red Alert stutters, sputtering in indignation. "N-Not a chance! You might as well drop me right here! I'd rather be offlined by the fall than endure looking at your hideous face!"

Ramjet whoops with laughter, performing an acrobatic barrel roll as his pumps roll from the pain of laughing too hard. "Ooh, he's a fiery one!" He gasps.

"Starscream will blow a gasket cap." Dirge mumbles under his breath, unable to disguise his glee. "He'll probably pout and whine, since he was the first Seeker who had gotten his hands on the Autobot first."

"What? He's the first? Who says? Is he trying to set up a club or something? 'The Red Alert is my pet!' club?" Thrust asks. "I'd like to see him try!"

"I'm not a pet!" Red Alert protests, arms flapping within Thrust's grip.

"Whoops!" Ramjet drops below Thrust just before his grip slips minutely, grunting as Red Alert's leg smacks against his tail wing. "Don't drop him!" He snaps. "Try to keep him in piece until Megatron has his turn, and then we'll have our chance to play!"

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Ultra Magnus / Perceptor / violent

Perceptor looks up from his station, surprised and momentarily concerned as his superior, Ultra Magnus, strides into his workroom.

"Sir?" He inquires hesitantly, noting the streaks of fresh energon that paint the mech's arms and chassis. "Were you successful in locating Swindle?"

He is concerned when Ultra Magus makes no effort to verbally respond.

Rather, large hands fall upon his shoulders, catching him tight.

"S-Sir?" Perceptor worries his bottom lip. "Has something happened?"

Suddenly his chair crashes to the ground, and he yelps in surprise as he is lifted, then spun around the fall over his work table, the force of impact scattering data pads and fragile projects that send glass onto the floor underneath.

"Sir!" Perceptor cries, hands slipping across the table, fingers twisting along the edges.

Legs and thighs push against him, splitting his legs to spread open wide from behind. Heated dermal plates cause Perceptor's limbs to tremble in trepidation.

He screams sharply in surprise, in blistering pleasure and momentary lancing agony as the larger mech practically shoves his interfacing cable into his access port. Perceptor buckles, forehead hitting the tabletop, hot air spilling from his open mouth as the coolant systems kick in. "Magnus!" He cries out.

First, his shadow swallows him and then Ultra Magnus leans over, pressing the front of his chassis along the length of Perceptor's back. His chin rests firmly atop the scientist's helm, arms rising to link their hands and fingers together in an intimate mating dance of aquamarine and alabaster.

The heated connection induces Magnus to buck sharply, forcing the cable deeper, and Perceptor cries out from the feedback, facial plates heating at the intimate press of the larger Autobot along his length. He instinctively pushes back against the hard bulk pinning him tight, and his motion stirs a low grunt of pleasure from his partner, who returns the gesture with a hard thrust that drives Perceptor flat against the work table.

Ultra Magnus' hands clench over his own, sliding around enough to where their palms press together. Perceptor, jolted by the gesture, turns his head enough to peer at the other officer. His lips are captured, Magnus diving and swallowing the scientist's weak cries of pleasure.

Overload catches them both between mercilessly fangs, driving the air from Perceptor's vents, and static nearly short-circuits Magnus' vocal processor as he releases a loud roar of completion, hips molding to Perceptor's as he slumps over his partner, threatening to flatten the smaller red and blue mech. Ultra Magnus, either too weak, or simply unwilling, does no severe his interface cable from Perceptor's access port.

Perceptor wheezes from the pressure of the larger body holding him down, but shifts uncomfortably moreso from the discomfort of the table edge dangerously close to denting into his stomach region. He is preparing to plead with Magnus to let him up, when he is just able to catch the mumble of words against his helm.

"The slagger got away. Again." Ultra Magnus hisses the last word, optics hidden as he buries his face against the crook of Perceptor's neck. "I only managed to tear his arm off, but the mechrat slipped away."

"Oh." Perceptor twists his shoulders around, looking to meet the other Autobot's gaze. "Is that where all the energon on your chassis is from?"

"Yes."

Perceptor sighs, and then winces at the short spark of pleasure that ignites between his legs. He can't hide the steady reheating of his facial dermal plates. "That...that would explain why you were so...violent in your efforts."

"You don't approve?" Ultra Magnus asks.

Perceptor shudders as lips begin tracing the smooth lines of the microscope mounted upon his other shoulder. "A little warning would be nice." He mutters, trying to sound bitter.

"Hmmm." Ultra Magnus hums.

He severs the connection, and Perceptor begins to relax-

But squeaks out loud when he is spun around, laid flat on his back upon the worktable, Ultra Magnus leaning over him until their lips just brush.

"Perceptor." Ultra Magnus purrs, lips twisted in a small mirthless smile. "I am frustrated and in need of your affections. Please prepare yourself for a long series of overloads."

"N-Now see here-" Perceptor is prepared to admonish the Autobot for his audacious humor when Ultra Magnus reestablishes connection, and the scientist finds that he is falling backwards, legs wrapping tightly around Magnus' waist as he finally gives up and allows Magnus to proceed.

Really, the insufferable...Neanderthal. He'd be lucky if Perceptor doesn't smack him alongside the head with a datapad if the scientist isn't able to work tomorrow due to his partner's amorous nature.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Drabbles 2**_  
Title: Drabbles2  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: Not mine!  
Summary: Slash! Four drabbles.

Optimus Prime / Grimlock / in hindsight  
Ramjet / Perceptor / alone together  
Snarl / Perceptor / trustworthy  
Frenzy / Red Alert / lost

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Optimus Prime / Grimlock / in hindsight

Optimus realizes that perhaps it would have been imperative to inquire about the Dinobots, and ask Ratchet if the mechs possessed any...peculiarities compared to their Cybertronian counterparts.

In hindsight, however, Ratchet may not have been aware that his creations, due to some design flaw or another, underwent what most organics would have called 'heat'.

When Grimlock burst into the privacy of Optimus' office, he felt momentary worry when the Dinobot leader proceeded to lock the door behind him.

He was surprised when the noticeably larger mech swept around the massive desk to stand in front of the seated Prime, anticipating another confrontation, having become used to the volatile mech repeatedly challenging Optimus' authority and position.

Optimus stuttered his alarm when Grimlock pinned him in place by straddling his form, and with skill he would have never associated with the younger mech, deftly located the concealed casing housing Prime's interface cable, and swiftly locked it into his own access port.

Grimlock rides Optimus with abandonment, taking gratifying pleasure in eliciting sharp cries from his partner after withdrawing the sharp grinning battle mask, running denta and glossa over the sleek lines of the Prime's throat.

When Optimus did not answer the Dinobot's gesture by dropping his own battlemask, Grimlock took matters into his own hand, locating the hidden clasps with sure fingers, and tore the barrier off Prime's face, tossing the damaged plate over his shoulder and across the room.

Optimus' hands eventually found a place upon the restlessly rocking mech's hips, head thrown back to deliver small cries of pleasure, grunting beneath the weight of his larger partner.

Grimlock stifled any cries that would have drawn concerned knocks from the opposite side of the locked door, muffling Optimus with lips and teeth, hands and fingers kneading the width and depth of Prime's shoulders and back.

Cresting a heady overload stole the air from his vents.

He was ill-prepared for Grimlock to pause only momentarily to begin again...and again...

After an inconceivable amount of time later, and more overloads than Optimus could retain count of during his exhausted state, Grimlock was forced to drag the weak Prime to Medical...

Where the Dinobot was forced to endure Ratchet's loud indignant shouts about the scuffed, dented state of Prime, and the dazed manner that Optimus responded to his questioning.

"You big buffoon!" Ratchet sputters, and Grimlock barely manages to duck the wrench aimed at his helm. "You dare to assault a Prime, and then have the audacity to ask me to hurry up so that he will be sufficiently repaired!? You're lucky I don't optimize you into a toaster!"

"Grimlock couldn't help it!" Grimlock persists, cowering while hiding his head beneath the protection of both arms.

"Umm..Ratchet..." Wheeljack, taking refuge in a connecting room, dares to stick his head out, fins flashing. "Maybe we need to have a talk with him about the birds and the bees..."

The accompanying roar from the infuriated Ratchet made Optimus wonder if Megatron's spies recorded the painful decibels of the medic's snapped temper.

Orns later, body paint refurbished, and after a good rest and ration of energon, Optimus sighs in relief when reaching the comfort of his rooms, eager to stretch out on his own recharge bed.

To his surprise, a loud booming knock halts his plans.

When Prime answers the thundering claps of fist hitting metal, optics blink at the sight of a sulking Grimlock, the Dinobot kicking at invisible dirt upon the floor.

"...Grimlock sorry for sending Optimus to medic.." The mech mutters low, and Optimus is almost unable to decipher his mumbling.

"...I see." Optimus pauses, trying to find the proper response. "Well...Apology accepted, then."

More surprises follow. Grimlock seizes his chance, larger bulk forcing Optimus to take a necessary step back as the mech fills the doorway.

"What-" Grimlock steps further inside, and seals and locks the door behind him.

"Grimlock not sorry for overload. Felt good." With deft hands, he gently pushes Optimus back onto the recharge berth. "Optimus good mech. Strong mech. Grimlock satisfied to take Prime as mate."

Optimus can feel his CPU performing flip-flops, optics flying wide as he is laid flat on his back. "This is a bit sudden..." He manages. Grimlock purrs in response, settling between Prime's thighs, running his hands up and down his partner's form. "Aren't you rushing things just a bit?"

"Optimus talk too much." Grimlock complains.

Prime shivers at how smoothly Grimlock establishes connection, hissing as his access port accepts the Dinobot's interface cable. It's been a long time since he'd ever shared a berth with another mech. "Less talk, more action, yes." He gasps.

Grimlock rumbles in approval, releasing the catch within his battle mask; as he is leaning down, Optimus' snap open in response. "Optimus does make good suggestions." He purrs.

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Ramjet / Perceptor / alone together

Perceptor is running late. Very late. The Academy had closed long ago, but he was only now leaving the campus.

He moved swiftly down the long streets, mentally berating himself for staying so long that night had fallen. Foolish, really, with the recent rumors of Decepticon troops performing routine aerial patrols over the city. Many Cybertronians learned to stay indoors during the nightly patrols.

While Perceptor, and a small handful of students, persisted in their studies, running the risk of walking the streets after curfew.

He clutched the array of datapads closer to his chassis, delving for comfort from their solid weight against chest plates. _'Don't let your CPU run wild.'_ He coaxes away his harried thoughts. _'It's not too far from your apartment unit...you're not doing anything wrong...Just keep your head down and keep moving, and it will all be fine.'_

Perceptor travels several more steps-

And suddenly a shadow stretches out from an alleyway, and a foot catches him at the ankle.

He yelps, falling gracelessly to the ground, data pads scattering over the sidewalk.

"Whoops."

Perceptor is too busy trying to gather up the cracked data pads to notice the Seeker stepping out from the mouth of the alleyway.

He does pay close attention when the large mech slaps the few data pads out of his hands.

"Hey!" Perceptor gasps, indignant. "Why did you do that!" He spins around to face the rude mech.

His next words falter when blue optics meet ruby, fear twisting his pumps at the burning gaze, crouched in front of a large black and gray Decepticon Seeker.

"About time I got you alone." The Decepticon drags Perceptor up onto his feet, keeping the red and aquamarine mech in place by resting his hands upon the student's shoulders. "Do you recharge with your data pads, or what? Can't get you away from the Academy for nothing." He mutters darkly.

"W-who are you...and-and what do you want?" Perceptor stutters, stumbling awkwardly as he's backed into the wall of a nearby building.

"Name's Ramjet." The Decepticon continues pushing until the smaller mech bounces against the wall, and pins him tightly in place. "Doing a bit of recruiting, and your name came up among the top students of the Academy. Rumor is that you're going to be one of the best scientists that the Academy has to offer."

Perceptor finds that he's attempting to sink through the very wall at his back. "I'm not really that great...really..." He offers.

Ramjet leans close, smirk painting his dark face as Perceptor reacts by leaning as far back as he can manage. "No need to be shy. The Decepticons would be extremely pleased to have such a mech among their ranks. In fact...the Constructicons are the most eager to see what you can offer."

"H-Hold on." Perceptor interrupts. "Are you...trying to recruit me? Me! No, no. This is a mistake! I...I'm a student. I'm a neutral! I don't want to join the Decepticons...or the Autobots!"

"Now see, here's the thing." Ramjet tugs Perceptor close, snagging an arm around the student's shoulders, leaning close to whisper conspiratorially into his audio receptors. "It's not really recruiting, or asking, about whether or not you want to join."

Perceptor moans softly in despair, realizing the terrible turn of events. "But I don't--"

_"Hush."_ Perceptor's lips clap tightly together, responding to the curt order. Helplessly, unable to offer any notable struggles, he's pulled aside, nudged into the depths of the alley as the Decepticon herds him outside of the street's lit pathway. "Now be a good mech..." Ramjet's words flow out from the alleyway, preceding a sharp cry of dismay, and the loud clank and whir of transformation as the Decepticon takes to the air, grasping his terrified passenger tight.

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Snarl / Perceptor / trustworthy

"They all stupid."

"I know, Snarl. I know."

"Big stupid heads."

Perceptor choked on the abrupt laugh that almost escaped his tenacious control. "Yes...Cliffjumper and Gears are a bit...rough around the edges."

Snarl sat balanced on the edge of the worktable, never mind that Perceptor had been previously working on a personal project.

But...the scientist has learned to not only expect, but to also anticipate the numerous abrupt interruptions from any of the five Dinobots who were in need of answers or affections whenever Ratchet or Wheeljack were busy.

Perceptor is proud that the Dinobots trust him enough to grant him such a gift, finding the smaller scientist a trustworthy confidant when the large mechs tended to ignore or act fairly aggressive towards a good number of their fellow Autobots.

However, sometimes the Dinobots' needs for attention or affection were exhausting. Especially if Perceptor made the mistake of not responding quickly enough to the mechs' needs.

His poor project suffered from Grimlock's temper several days ago, the mech losing his cool, figuratively, and literally, transforming into his tyrannosaur form and bellowing a large column of flame, offlining the small compact computer Perceptor had been working on. The innocent pieces of technology diverting Perceptor's attention from the Dinobot leader long enough for Grimlock to lose his patience.

Wheeljack nearly bust a pump clasp at the sight of Perceptor trying to sooth the large mech's ire, Grimlock slumped on the scientist's floor, arms crossed like a pouting sparkling, ignoring the scientist while Perceptor alternated between coaxing himself back into Grimlock's good graces, while trying to save his lab from burning to the ground.

The Dinobot leader was the more explosive out of all the Dinobots. Slag came in a close second, but at worst would resort to a loud bellow for Perceptor's attention, almost knocking Perceptor out of his dermal plating when the mech let out a Primus awful roar.

Sludge tugged Perceptor's spark, never losing his temper, but looking close to releasing coolant tears whenever he thought Perceptor was growing tired of listening to him. Perceptor made sure to possess a stash of energon treats as an added incentive for Sludge to continue his visits, regardless of the large mech's uncertainty of the longevity of Perceptor's affections.

Swoop would hover over Perceptor's shoulder, silently drawing the scientist's attention back towards him, rewarding Perceptor with a loud chirp of approval when successful in attaining the smaller mech's focus. If that didn't work, he would throw his arms around Perceptor's shoulders, physically clinging to the mech until the scientist either fell out of his seat, or paid attention to him.

Snarl, though...Perceptor looked up at the mech sitting in front of him, long legs kicking listlessly in the air. Arms crossed over his stomach, Snarl's optics were turned away from the scientist.

"Treat us Dinobots like we don't understand what they say." Snarl's optics narrow, in frustration, and a small sliver of pain and disappointment. "Don't bother trying to get to know Dinobots, like Ratchet and Wheeljack. Like Perceptor."

"If that is the case, then it is their loss." Perceptor pats a large knee with his hand. "If they don't see you for the mech you are, and if they don't appreciate you, then it's their loss."

For a long while Snarl does not offer a response. Until..."...Perceptor think so?" Optics return to him, beseechingly.

"I know so." Perceptor assures.

Perceptor gasps as arms enwrap him, pulling the scientist flush against Snarl's trunk, lifted completely off the ground. His face ends up buried against Snarl's chassis.

"Thank you, Perceptor! Perceptor good mech! Good friend!"

The scientist wheezed. "G-great...Ack! Snarl...hold off, you're squishing m-me..."

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Frenzy / Red Alert / lost

"Hey, Boss." Frenzy's voice cut through the private communication link.

"What Is It?" Soundwave pauses while watching the security screens, tracking the Seeker Trine movements.

"Red managed to get out, and he's a bit lost."

Soundwave manages to halt a small sigh. "Thank You, Frenzy. Red Alert's Location?"

"Level 5." Frenzy paused, apparently tracking the mech. "He's getting close to one of the sealed hatches...You might want to hurry."

"Advice: Acknowledged." Soundwave quickly severed the link, rising from his post to go and retrieve his wandering guest.

It takes him a extremely short amount of time to locate the Autobot, and as he approaches he notes how the red and white is now collapsed against the farthest wall, chassis heaving from overexertion.

"Efforts: Foolish." Soundwave's admonishment is met with a sharp flinch of the mech's door wings. "The Hatch Is Sealed. And You Are Fortunate That Megatron Is Unaware Of Your Actions. You Would Find Yourself Down In The Brigs, And I Can Not Protect You From Starscream While You Are There."

"Please let me leave." Red Alert is too weak to struggle as Soundwave crouches beside him, carefully tucking the weaker mech against his front. "I want to go back to the Ark..."

"Request: Denied."

Soundwave is forced to struggle for a moment with the limp cast of Red Alert's arms, rising onto his feet, carrying the mech bridal style within strong arms.

"nonononono..." Red Alert's helm cracks against his shoulder as the mech shakes his head in stubborn refusal.

Soundwave has learned not to acknowledge the mech during these manic sprees. The damage to his logic circuits had been nearly irreversible when Starscream had drug the injured mech into the Decepticon's base, using the mech as a bargaining chip to sooth Megatron's wrath at losing the Negavator.

Hook managed to halt further damage, but warned that it would be some time before Red Alert's CPU returned to full capacity.

Until then, Soundwave kept watch over his impromptu charge, less he incur Megatron's wrath at losing track of their newest 'guest'.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Drabbles3**_  
Title: Drabbles3  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned by Hasbro. Not mine, sadly.  
Summary: G1. More drabbles courtesy of the pairing generator goodness. Nothing really smutty this time (Sadly).

Swoop / Perceptor / club  
(Sortof) Sidefic to the drabble Trustworthy

Inferno / Red Alert / captured

Laserbeak/Red Alert/irresponsible  
Sequel to 'Lost'

Megatron / Perceptor / like an open book

Hook / Perceptor / a long time ago

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

* * *

Swoop / Perceptor / club  
(Sortof) Sidefic to the drabble Trustworthy  
*Make more sense if you read the first drabble

Bluestreak's optics widen, while sitting opposite across the table from Perceptor. "Umm...Perceptor..." The mech seems unable to find the proper words. "You...kind of have something attached to you."

"Yes, Bluestreak." Perceptor mutters, "I am quite aware."

Even seated, taking a break to join Bluestreak in the rec room and enjoy a cup of energon, the microscope was unable to escape the young Dinobot's pleading tugs for the red and azure Autobot to return with him to the labs and show him how to upload the latest lessons in Cybertronian anatomy and physiology. Swoop doggedly followed the microscope, hovering and prodding the mech, trying to gain his attention.

Once realizing that the scientist is trying to ignore him, despite his whining, resorts to other tactics.

Swoop drapes himself over the expanse of Perceptor's back, clinging to the mech like a sparkling primate attached to its mother's back. Both arms circle around Perceptor's shoulders, and the greater weight of the Dinobot is dangerously close to forcing all the air out through Perceptor's vents.

Many of the other mechs sitting or standing inside the rec room are either trying to stifle their laughter - or they are in too much shock at the sight of the Dinobot accosting the scientist - that they offer no assistance.

"Swoop want Perceptor to pay attention to him!" Swoop chirps petulantly, rocking against the scientist. Perceptor gulps, worried that the chair will be unable to hold the two mechs' combined weight for long. "Swoop want Perceptor to help him with next lessons!"

"Ratchet told you that he wants to review the previous lessons first." Perceptor offers, while trying to wiggle under and free of Swoop's tenacious grip.

"I. Don't. Want. To." Swoop performs a dramatic, rocking lull forwards and back with every word, dragging Perceptor with him.

"You're. Going. To. Make. Us. Fall. Over." Perceptor answers in the same tone, hands gripping the edge of the table tight to prevent his warning from occurring.

Bluestreak tries to take a sip of his energon while trying not to choke on the violet drink. "Looks like it will take more than that to pry him off, Perceptor." Bluestreak giggles at the dark look the scientist shoots at him.

However, karma comes around to bit him in the aft.

"Bluueee!" Bluestreak freezes, catching the familiar voice, at the same moment Sideswipe barrels into the room, apparently possessing a form of GPS based on the ease he shoots straight for the Datsun's direction.

"Sunstreaker's ignoring meeee!" Bluestreak yelps as, he too, is mercilessly pounced upon. Sideswipe is close to crushing the smaller Bluestreak across the top of the table, burying his face into the crook of the Datsun's shoulder. "I'm so bored. Play with me!" Sideswipe moans petulantly, clinging to Bluestreak like a parasite.

Perceptor is not in the mood to offer assistance, forced to deal with his own parasitic growth. He merely ignores Bluestreak's beseeching optics, resolutely suffering beneath Swoop's insistent handling and loud chirping. "Join the club." Is the only advice that the microscope offers.

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Inferno / Red Alert / captured

Inferno holds Red Alert tightly against his chassis, optics narrowly watching the bright energon bars of their cell.

Red Alert whimpers against the red paint pressed against his lips, horns burning nova-hot, spitting random spats of sparks and miniature plumes of acrid smoke.

_'Primus.'_ Inferno groans, shifting Red into a more comfortable position, while trying to ignore the sharp stabbing pain in his side from the open wounds delivered by Starscream and his wingmates. _'What a right mess we got ourselves into.'_

The damage to Red's logic circuits was bad enough, causing Inferno and his fellow Autobots to chase after the Security Director when the mech had fled from his comrades, CPU drowned by pain and garbled input, internal recovery systems unable to contend with the damage to his logic circuits. Running away from his friends while babbling nonsense about the Autobots planning to dismantle him.

Inferno was separated from the other Autobots when taking off after Red, following the smaller mech through the city before managing to cut him off on the opposite corner of the small city.

But their luck only turned far worse. Much to Inferno's surprise, Starscream had been following Red Alert, catching sight of the injured and confused mech.

The Seeker, after summoning Thundercracker and Skywarp to aid him, took down both Autobots with the assistance of his wingmates. Overpowering the two, and causing major damage to Inferno when the fire truck struggled balefully to protect his friend as Skywarp fell from the heavens, landing atop Red and pinning him flat upon the ground, wrists crossed behind the small of his back.

Thundercracker knocked the larger Autobot off Skywarp by delivering a narrow blast into the unprotected stretch of his torso and thigh, slamming both fists into the base of his skull, knocking Inferno's motor functioning offline.

Now, both Inferno and Red Alert were locked tight behind energon bars, in the bowels of the _Nemesis_, no doubt waiting for Megatron to decide their fate.

Inferno's fingers dug deep into Red Alert's shoulders, leaving shallow indents. No...There must be some means of escape. If only to get Red Alert back to the Ark, where Wheeljack and Ratchet could hopefully repair the damage...

His audio sensors detect the intruding signals. Footsteps. More than one pair, approaching the direction of their cell.

Red Alert stiffens within his arms, hypersensitive sensory net making out the encroaching Decepticons. "It's all right, Red." Inferno shushes the red and white mech's murmurs, calming Red by running a hand up and down the length of his back. "It's all right."

But everything was far from all right.

"Well..." A sibilant purr marked Starscream's arrival, flanked by his wingmates, stopping to stand on the opposite side of the energon bars. "Isn't this cozy." Starscream smirks at the position of the two mechs, Inferno trying to shield his inured companion with his much larger bulk.

"Bastard." Inferno snarls.

Skywarp leans over Starscream's shoulder, sneering at the fire truck. "Should watch your mouth, Auto trash. You're a rat in a small cage now, and the only reason you haven't been deactivated is because _someone_ is of potential use in the immediate future."

"If you think that I would do anything to help you or your miserable excuse of a leader--"

He is cut off by dark, humorless laughter.

"Fool." Thundercracker adds his two cents. "Who says we were talking about _you_?"

Inferno's shoulders jolt, locking tight, as the Seeker's meaning sinks in. "No..."

Skywarp is keying in the number sequence on the data pad outside the cell, and the energon bars sink into the ceiling and floor, disappearing and allowing the Decepticons unhindered access into the chamber. "Now be a good mech and hand Red Alert over." Starscream asks, painting on a sickeningly sweet smile. "We promise that we'll be gentle."

"We'll handle him as if he were one of our own." Thundercracker joins Starscream, stalking towards the huddled mechs.

Skywarp laughs at Thundercracker's choice of words. Catching Inferno's confused look, the darker mech clarifies.

"Megatron thinks that Red Alert would be a valuable asset. Although he's a wee bit damaged, Hook and Scrapper swear that they can repair the damage...as well as add a few important tweaks."

"Take a moment to imagine." Starscream's optics burn bright, ruby flames evoked, clearly excited by the prospect playing out within his CPU. "Some minor alterations during Hook and Scrapper's repairs, and Red Alert will come out of surgery under the belief that he has always been a member of Megatron's Decepticon forces. His time among the Autobots will hold no value or meaning."

"I won't let you!" Inferno spat, twisting around to block the Seekers from laying their filthy hands on Red Alert.

"You're outnumbered, you insipid mech! What can a damaged Autobot do against the three of us!" Thundercracker growls, as the Seekers suddenly close in.

The Seekers' combined strength - and the sheer violence of their attacks - are quickly becoming overwhelming. Starscream and Thundercracker tackle the larger Autobot like linemen, one hitting him high, the other hitting him low.

They must sense his confusion and horror. "Did you think Seekers were good for nothing on the ground?" Starscream shoves him hard against the back of the cell. "Fool!" He curses.

During the fierce close-quarter battle, Inferno realizes that Red Alert has disappeared from within his arms.

Turning, and receiving a sharp, stabbing blow into his wounded side, Inferno is struck by the sight of Skywarp casually dragging Red Alert beyond the line where the energon bars sank into the floor and ceiling.

"NO!" Inferno lunges, but becomes tangled between two pairs of arms. "Let him go, you stinking slag heap from the Pit!"

"Oooh. I'm hurt. Really." Skywarp taunts, hefting the slumped mech into a closer position, allowing for a firmer grip. The sparking horns are nearly too hot against his dermal plates, but he can ignore the slight discomfort. "Say goodbye to Inferno, Red." Skywarp waves a free hand exaggeratedly in Inferno's direction, grinning over the top of Red Alert's helm like a large panther holding a small canary within its fangs. "Bye, bye." The Seeker mocks.

Inferno lunges, hands reaching to wrap and strangle the life out of the taunting mech, but Starscream and Thundercracker meet his brazen attack with their fists.

Only a moment later, Inferno is felled by a low-handed null blast aimed at his lower back, systems engulfed in waves of static and confused relays, limbs refusing to cooperate and his entire body seizes within a hot cauldron of pain.

The Seekers, knowing that the beaten and paralyzed mech is of no threat, casually step out of the cell. Thundercracker keys in the correct code, the command summoning the energon bars to slide back into place across the length of wall barring entry into the dank chamber. "Don't worry, big guy." The sky blue mech promises. "We'll take good care of Red."

Inferno's vents cough, expelling a swell of heat as coolants switch on, in attempt to repair the fried systems. Deep, dry coughs overpower the sound of the footsteps retreating, abandoning the fallen Autobot's position.

_'..R-Red...'_ Somehow dredging up some vestige of strength, Inferno has enough power to pull his massive bulk up onto his knees, falling in the direction of the energon bars.

He hisses in agony as his hands slap against the bars, electricity racing across the skin of his plating. Ignoring the piercing pain, Inferno slams his hands again and again against the barrier. Until he is too weak, and his hands are beginning to smoke and leak energon.

The pain can do nothing to match the agony that has seized the bright chamber of his Spark. He slams both hands against the bars one last time, head hanging low, unable, and refusing to admit that the Decepticons and his injured friend are nowhere in sight, and therefore Red Alert is too far away for him to reach. **"RED!!"**

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Laserbeak/Red Alert/irresponsible  
Sequel to 'Lost'

_'It's confounding,'_ Laserbeak realizes. _'How irresponsible this Autobot is.'_

Keeping an optic on the prisoner was similar to trying to keep young chicks from tumbling out of a high-rise nest.

The mech possessed no concept of self-preservation, and appeared blind and mute to his position as a prisoner within the Decepticon base.

Foolishly - regardless of Soundwave's warning -the Autobot has tried yet again, and unsuccessfully, to escape his captivity.

Instead, Red Alert finds himself thrown at Megatron's feet, the tyrant glaring down at the Autobot for daring to make another brazen attempt of escape.

Anticipating what was yet to come, Laserbeak silently drops from the rafters, slipping seamlessly from the room, quickly heading towards the Security office to warn Soundwave that the worst scenario had come to fruition.

"Found him near the landing platform." Dirge adds his input, standing behind the kneeling Autobot. "Wonder if he thought he could swim."

Thrust snickers from his wingmate's back, eager to watch and see how the Decepticon leader would deal with another escape attempt courtesy of their resident Autobot.

Megatron digs black fingers into Red Alert's chin, forcing his head up and capturing the Autobot's optics.

"I believe I made myself clear when we discussed this last." The leader growls, pinching Red Alert's chin tighter, drawing a wince from the mech as dermal plates ground together painfully. "I do not tolerate disobedience among my own soldiers. So tell me...why should I tolerate it from _you_?" He demands.

Red Alert's lips twist together, stubbornly remaining mute, while the tyrant's hand slides down to encase his throat.

As if weighing no more than a sparkling, the mech is hefted into the air, legs dangling above the ground, hands grappling with the hand cutting of the main cable's intake.

Sometime while Megatron has been distracted, Starscream eased his way into the room as well, watching as their leader demanded an answer from the prisoner. "If he's so much trouble, _Lord Megatron_," Starscream's purposely hisses the designation, and in most situations would have earned a rough rebuke from his leader for his obstinate tone of voice, if Megatron were not otherwise distracted, "then why don't you give Red to me? I'm sure that I, as well as my wingmates, can educate Red about the error of his ways."

Megatron's lips curl back, snarling at the Seeker's tone, but does not miss the tell-tale flinch from the mech trapped tightly within his grip. Red Alert's optics flare wide, recognizing and catching Starscream's voice, shoulders rolling rigid at the Seeker's suggestion.

"...Perhaps." Megatron deliberates out loud, garnering a short sound of dismay from the Autobot.

Soundwave, arriving not too long after the Seeker, answering Laserbeak's warning, steps forward. He doesn't miss the sickeningly pleased look on Starscream's face, and nor did he miss the Seeker's 'selfless' suggestion about offering his services in regards to the prisoner. "A Word, Lord Megatron?"

"Yes. What is it now?"

"Red Alert: Unwell. CPU Still Far Unstable. Placing The Mech Under The Seekers' Mercy: Too Damaging. Will Counter Hook's Repairs. Will Undermine Efforts To Bring Mech Back To Full Capacity."

"That is quite a speech, coming from you, Soundwave." Megatron notes.

Soundwave says no more. Megatron stares back at the officer, contemplating the value of either mechs' words, and the impact on the prisoner, and consequently the prisoner's future worth.

"Che!" The Seeker appears ready to spit acid, face twisted and made ugly by his temper. "You're not seriously thinking about bowing down to Soundwave, are you?!" Starscream demands shrilly.

Soundwave's mask hides a satisfied smirk. The Seeker's cheek and poor choice of words have unintentionally sealed the deal.

If it is at all possible, Megatron draws himself taller, glaring down at the daring mech. Dirge and Thrust freeze in unison, sensing the ominous rise in tension filling the room. The two beat a hasty retreat, not wishing to be anywhere between the two Decepticons.

"You dare..." Starscream hunkers down, wringing his hands together at the pitched voice. "You dare speak to me in such a manner..._And you dare to proclaim that I, Megatron, would bow to anyone_!"

"I-I didn't mean it that way-" Starscream begins pitifully.

_"Insolence!"_ His wrath effectively turned in the direction of another, Megatron hurls Red Alert towards Soundwave, and the Communications officer easily catches the brunt of the full impact. "Take him and go! And see that I don't hear or see any sign of him for the next three cycles!"

Soundwave, arms wrapped tight around the shivering Autobot, quickly bows his head slightly, drawing Red Alert out of the room and into the safety of the corridor.

"You dare talk back, you pathetic quibbling insect!" Soundwave's audio receptors catch Megatron's furious rant, and the sharp yelp as Starscream dodges the tyrant's aimed fist before the metal doors slam shut.

".....thank you..."

Soundwave jumps, not anticipating the faint voice.

Red Alert's face is buried into the hollow above his cassette compartment, arms wrapped tightly around the dark blue mech's waist. Clearly, the mech realizes how close he came to facing Megatron's wrath and punishment - more than likely delivered unto Starscream's mercy.

"Do Not Attempt To Leave Again." Soundwave warns, but does not attempt to pull the mech off his front, arms remaining looped around the red and white mech's shoulders. "Do Not Test Megatron's Temper."

Red Alert's helm bobs in acquiescence, hands delving into seams of armor, burrowing into the only safe haven inside the Decepticon base.

It takes quite a bit of time before the two mechs can separate without Red Alert's knees threatening to crumble.

Thankfully, Soundwave doesn't seem to mind.

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Megatron / Perceptor / like an open book

It was tiring.

Unsatisfying, really.

He had thought that Iacon would promise resistance that is more formidable. A token refusal to bow before his forces.

He faced disappointment.

The lack of worthy challenge left him near despair.

The Autobots were weakened. Physically drained by orns upon orns of constant, brutal battle. Spiritually worn down to the dense marrow of their bones by the defeat of Prime.

He runs glossa along sharp fangs. A low, satisfied purr escapes.

_'Yes,'_ He decides, CPU quickly calling forth the exact memory file. The manner in which Sentinel Prime's optics flew wide, finally realizing that the end was near, staring down in horror as energon pulsed from his wounds. The faint, painful whimper as his Spark chamber tore into thin strips beneath Megatron's hands. _'That had been most satisfying.'_

For a time after Sentinel Prime's downfall, and the utter collapse of Kaon, Typer Pax, and Iacon, fear rose that there was nothing left that could possibly hold his attention, nor sate his lust for contest and conquer.

But now, after so long, he's found a...suitable source of entertainment.

One of the few Autobots left in the city, unable to breach the perimeter of Iacon before the Decepticons set up outposts and began to monitor all who were traveling in and out of the city.

No Autobot worth his metal would dare to attempt to try and slink out of the city when so many enemies surrounded all avenues of escape.

There were no available means of blending in with the neutral mechs and femmes herded into and out of the city under constant surveillance. The Autobot insignia stenciled upon their plating would ultimately signal discovery and imminent downfall.

Much to his surprise, he'd stumbled across this particular Autobot during a lone excursion through the city. Surveying the bounty of _his_ city.

The smaller red and cobalt microscope mech fumbles his blaster twice, dangerously close to simply dropping it onto the ground in his flustered state.

He had obviously not expected to face off with the leader of the Decepticons.

Back laid flat against the crumbled face of a building that had fallen onto its side across the width of the street, the Autobot was trapped, backed into a corner, with nowhere to turn, and quite obviously possessing very little combat or battle tactics experience.

The Autobot stares at him in horror, as if he were a beast rising from the Pit itself. Mouth gaping, mute, as his opponent chuckles darkly while easily slapping the pathetic weapon aside with a brutal sweep of one fist.

And the blaster hits an adjacent wall, shattering into over a dozen pieces as Megatron falls upon his prey.

The microscope whimpers into terror behind the hand suddenly splayed over dark cheeks and mandibles, suffocating his cries behind a black palm and fingers. Azure hands grasp the larger opponent's wrist, futilely tugging in an effort to break loose.

Oh, how the emotions spread across his face like an open book. The sheer terror is intoxicating. Despair sending the energon inside arterial cables and wire to a rising bubble.

He leans forward, glossa catching the single bead of coolant that slips under the line of one bright blue optic, savoring the chilling fluid as if it were a draught of high-grade.

_'Yes.'_ Megatron decides. _'Truly, intoxicating.'_

_

* * *

_

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Hook / Perceptor / a long time ago

Those days were long gone.

A long time ago. Back then, you made us feel worthy.

You made us feel like we meant something.

Besides you, only Omega Supreme looked at us in the same way...like we weren't simple, mindless drones.

You made me feel pride for being a Constructicon.

...You had no idea....

You had no idea how valuable each smile, every single time you laid your optics on my gestalt brothers or me...how much we ached for a single scrap of attention or affection.

Through every instance of self-doubt, of self-flagellation, when we felt useless or worthless, you pulled us up from the Pit's depths, showing and proving how strong and mighty we truly were.

When the Decepticons rose, and we stepped forward to act, and thus betraying Omega Supreme...we felt shame.

But those emotions were nothing compared to losing you in the chaos of the Decepticons.

We grieved.

We feared the worst. We ached at the idea, the terrible speculation about losing you forever.

But now, after so much time...to find you here, on this dirtball of a planet.

The Autobots never had the chance to awaken. Locked in stasis, never realizing that their enemies had discovered the disabled Ark, invading the downed vessel, and began scouring for valuable data...and noteworthy prisoners.

Like all of the others, you were cruelly torn from stasis, only to be thrown in a small cell...abandoned in the brig, separated from the higher ranked prisoners and the invaluable, yet now helpless Prime.

It was sheer luck, that one of my brothers discovered you in that dark hole.

Megatron was stunned, mute by the image of his Constructicons begging - begging on our hands and knees - for you to be turned into our care, and released from the brig.

The pregnant silence gave us time to fear the worst, that our leader would refuse our plea.

Instead, Megatron's optics narrow, ruby contemplating the unusual request, not accustomed to his gestalt demanding the acquisition of a fairly innocuous prisoner. "...It may be for the best." Megatron states, finally. "A number of my soldiers are paying undue attention to your particular mech. It may be in his best interests to be removed. And in the best interests so that I am not unduly bothered by the resulting damage to his person."

I barely waste the time to bow in my endless gratitude, before leaping to my feet and reaching the brig in record time.

"Open the door." The guard's optics widen comically at the low snarl - and the revealed, armed, and pointed blaster - aimed at his face, centered directly between both optics. _"Open the fragging door!"_

I don't care whether he runs away in terror after keying the pad to unlocked the sealed barrier, nor if he runs bleating to Megatron about my insolence in pointing a weapon at a fellow soldier.

He doesn't matter.

Only you.

I step inside the unlit, frigid cell, subspacing the blaster as I enter. My optics quickly assess your form for any damage. Thankfully, I can only find minor scraps, the largest covering the side of your face, no doubt from a callous punch delivered by a lumbering soldier smitten by his own ego and his position, holding a powerless Autobot at his feet.

I have to be swift in my assessment based on what little I could see of your face. Your arms are already raised to shield azure optics, huddled and shivering in the farthest corner of the cell.

You're curled up in a tight ball like a sparkling, anticipating the worst from the newest mech stepping inside the cold chamber, and try to leap away as my hand falls to rest upon a shoulder.

There is a short scuffle, and I manage to wrestle you into my arms, locking you tight and close. Your fingers scrap at the paint on my shoulders and biceps, whimpering as you try to shove me backwards.

It takes a laborious amount of effort and a considerable length of time before I am able to turn you enough to provide clear sight of my face.

You stiffen. Immediately recognizing a familiar - and dear - visored optics and dark face.

A cold, aching wash of betray spills across your optics, and coolants tremble from the corners. Your dark face pinches tight in agony, fingers twisting to leave smooth dents upon my plating.

"...why?" I can't discern your words at first. "Why..." You repeat the low whimper.

That one word is all your vocal processor is capable to conduct, repeating the mantra until only white static spills forth. A low whine screeches out of a ragged torn throat, and I am only able to muffle the Spark-wrenching sound by pulling you close.

My brothers and I had wanted to hold you like this from the very beginning.

Because you're the one who made us feel warm and alive.

Maybe...

Maybe...must maybe, all the time that we laid in cold silence, waiting...

Maybe it was all worth it for this moment.

There is a chance.

There is a chance you may hate us.

After all, you are a prisoner of war. And we are the ones that seal the gate and have thrown away the key.

You may hate us.

But it's all right.

Because we want and need you, and we'll do anything to hold onto this warmth.

Even if we are forced to lock you away where no one else may find you, and the only touch and taste and sight and smell and sound is derived from my hands, and my brothers'.

Given enough time - no matter how many centuries it will take - you may forget how badly you despise, fear, and hate us...

Perhaps you'll grow to love us.

Right?

Right, Perceptor?


	4. Chapter 4

_**Drabbles4**_  
Title: Drabbles4  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned by Hasbro. Not mine, sadly.  
Summary: G1. More drabbles courtesy of the pairing generator goodness. More of the Dinobots and Perceptor madness. Pretty much crack. This time have a couple of smuts.

Note: Some of the sequels are not based on the pairing generator's results. I just used the style to make each drabble connect together a little better.

Grimlock / Prowl / regret  
Sequel to 'Club'  
(Non-smut version!)

Sludge / Perceptor / bath  
Sequel to 'Regret (Non-smut version!)'

Snarl/ Perceptor/ prey  
Sequel to 'Bath'

Grimlock / Prowl / regret  
Pure smut version!!

Megatron / Perceptor / prize  
Sequel to 'Like an open book'

Inferno/ Red Alert / mistake  
(Smut!)

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Grimlock / Prowl / regret  
Sequel to 'Club'  
(Non-smut version!)

For Prowl, he comes to regret Wheeljack showing the Dinobots a human documentary Walking With Dinosaurs, and other documentaries focused on their alternator forms.

More specifically, he is forced to watch Grimlock carry out a vivid scene from his favorite episode...not surprisingly acting it out by stalking his most favorite prey.

_"The tyrannosaur is a stalk and ambush predator..."_

Indeed. Prowl's optics are not blind to the larger mech following the microscope at a discrete distance.

The fact that Grimlock even knows how to be discrete...

Perceptor never realizes that a dangerous predator is stalking him, continuing on with his projects over the next few cycles.

_"The group of docile plant-eaters are unaware of the threat stalking the herd..."_

The commentary runs in a steady monologue inside his CPU, as Prowl stands guard outside the Ark as he and a small party of Autobots survey the extent of flooding caused by steady rain over a period of five cycles.

The Dinobots amuse themselves with mock-battles - enjoying the opportunity to stretch their limbs after being cooped up inside the Ark during the rain - Grimlock and Sludge wrestling while Bumblebee and Jazz set up a cheering section, alternating between praising either mech as the other's footing falters during their 'battle'.

Most of the mechs not otherwise distracted by the Dinobots tumbling and play fighting - Hound and Perceptor at the lead - are amazed at the large lake of water that has formed not too far from the Ark's entrance. The body of water, now a soup of thick mud and brackish water, is causing Sunstreaker noticeable distress. The mech hovers at the far edge of the lake, dreading the thought of the cold muck touching his paint.

"Don't see what's so interesting." Sunstreaker mutters sullenly.

Hound and Perceptor appear stunned by his admission. "But isn't it amazing!" Hound waves his arm in the lake's direction. "Think of all of the microorganisms concentrated in the soil bed."

Sunstreaker makes a face that clearly shows his distaste.

"Fascinating." Perceptor stands at the very edge, carefully watching his footing while leaning down to peer at the water's surface.

_"Suddenly. One of them senses that they are being watched."_

Prowl notices how Perceptor suddenly stiffens, a frown marring his face. Confused by the odd blip in his sensory net, no doubt, sensing some sort of impeding threat.

The tactician doesn't have the chance to warn the microscope of the onrushing threat.

Grimlock, realizing that his prey was completely distracted, appears out of nowhere, barreling into the mech from behind. Lifting the microscope clear off his feet.

Perceptor emits a sharp 'meep' of surprise and horror as they fly forward, landing in a belly flop near the center of the brackish lake.

Sunstreaker nearly leaps out of his dermal plating to avoid the small wave of mud and water that is the result of the two mechs' impromptu bath. "Watch the paint!" He barks.

_"The prey never knows what hit him."_

Grimlock shakes his head fiercely back and forth through the thick pools of mud, mimicking the act of a tyrannosaur tearing into its prey. Perceptor manages to push himself up onto his knees, streaking thin lines of mud across his face while he attempts to scrape away thicker patches of mud.

"Grimlock King of all Dinosaurs!!" Grimlock pumps his arms up into the air in triumph. Never mind how ridiculous the large mech looks covered head to toe in mud oozing down his broad torso and limbs.

Sludge's head perks up, catching his leader's loud jubilant bellow.

"Me Sludge want to play, too!" The large mech calls, pitching towards the two mechs half-sitting - half-swimming - in the muddy lake.

"No no no no _nnnnooooo_!" Sunstreaker pleads, watching in horror as the large mech rumbles past, leaping into the air and performing an impressive cannon ball into the lake.

Perceptor disappears under the subsequent wave of mud that shoots over his helm, and many of the other mechs along the lake's perimeter fail to scramble away in time to avoid the tsunami of mud and debris.

To his right, Prowl notices that Jazz has fallen to his knees, convulsing from the laughter that seizes his frame. Bumblebee is of no help, the minicon practically rolling on the ground beside the saboteur. "Please tell me that Red Alert's cameras have been recording that." Jazz manages to wheeze out.

_"My paint!!"_ Sunstreaker wails in horror.

Prowl sighs, but lips pinch together to stifle a laugh at the sight of Sunstreaker shrieking his head off about his bodywork. He imagines that no one in the Ark will hear the end of this for the next few cycles.

Moving forward, he sidesteps the two tussling Dinobots, Sludge laughing in delight as he pins his leader, shoving the mech's face into the mud. Prowl decides that it is probably necessary to wade in and rescue Perceptor before he drowns.

* * *

Sludge / Perceptor / bath  
Sequel to 'Regret (Non-smut version!)'

"Get in here." Perceptor leads the large mech into the wash racks. "You're utterly filthy!"

"Perceptor just as dirty." Sludge counters, but obediently follows.

"Yes." Perceptor agrees. He can't ignore the stiffening joints, the irritating mud from Grimlock and Sludge's impromptu mud wrestling seeping into uncomfortable areas. "And now that the others have had their turn, we need to get all this mud and grit off."

Sludge hums. "Mud makes Sludge all itchy." He complains, fingers scrapping at the dried patches that are irritating sensitive wires and plating.

Perceptor coaxes the mech over towards the taller and wider section of the wash racks designed for mechs more of his build, providing the microscope with room to maneuver around the dirty mech. "Hold still." He instructs, switching on the showerheads.

Sludge's shoulders rock, in minutes the running water beginning to loosen the stubborn patches of mud.

While waiting for the water to work free most of the thick residue, Perceptor is quick to wash and douse himself under an entire bottle of cleaning solution, sighing in relief as the mud begins to slide off his frame, revealing the azure and ruby plating. To be clean again without that horrible mud tickling and scraping everywhere!

He notices that Sludge is continuing to shift under the water in obvious discomfort, he asks, "What's wrong?"

"...Sludge can't reach..." His hands struggle to reach around and scratch at the mud sluggishly trailing down the center of his back.

"Here." Perceptor motions for Sludge to step out from under the running water and crouch down so that the smaller mech can easily reach all of the caked material. The microscope reaches for another bottle of cleaning solution, emptying its contents over the Dinobot, while preventing the fluid from pouring over Sludge's optics and irritate the sensitive wiring lining the edges of his optical screens.

Next Perceptor takes a large sponge - colossal by human standards - soaking it under the water, and patiently slides and scrapes, steadily producing thicker and thicker patches of white lather, several areas turning gray and muddy brown when encountering massive patches of dirt.

Perceptor is pleased that, after quite a bit of time and effort, he's managed to work the sponge and lather all over. "There! Now all we have to do is get this washed off."

Before he can prompt the mech to stand back up and step forward under the showerheads, Sludge takes matters into his own hands.

Once realizing that Perceptor is done, Sludge furiously shakes his massive bulk, like a large dog shaking its coat to relieve itself of fleas.

All four walls and deepest corners are splattered by mud and cleaning solution.

Perceptor's optics blink in surprise and stalled alarm as his entire front is similarly painted.

And after he'd finished cleaning right before Sludge!

_"Sludge!!"_

"Sorry!"

* * *

Snarl/ Perceptor/ prey  
Sequel to 'Bath'

"Don't know why we have to run another surveillance sweep."

"Skywarp: Silence Output."

"Come on." The Seeker hisses at the Communication officer. "There's been no activity around the Ark's perimeter. Why do we have to do reconnaissance when we know nothing's happening."

"_Because_ Megatron _told_ us." Thundercracker reminds his wing mate, speaking exaggeratedly like he would to a slow sparkling.

"What a waste of time." Starscream mutters.

The four mechs are crouched behind an outcropping that provides sufficient cover, and where they know that Red Alert's security cameras are not precisely aimed.

"Why can't Laserbeak do this!" Skywarp insists.

"Laserbeak: Damaged During Last Battle. Undergoing Final Repairs."

_Whack._

"Ow!"

"Stop sniveling." Starscream lowers his hand. "And pay attention."

"But there's nothing--"

"Look!" Thundercracker interrupts, instinctively ducking further down behind the outcropping shielding their position.

The Decepticons peer in the direction that Thundercracker indicates. Making out a lone mech casually strolling towards a sheltered ravine overflowing with various flora.

"What's the big deal?" Skywarp mutters, glaring at Starscream indignantly while rubbing at his aching helm. "It's just that scientist."

"What's he doing all the way out here?" Starscream wonders aloud.

"Shh! Shh!" Thundercracker hushes.

Soundwave peers at the blue Seeker, curious at his fierce shushing motions. "Autobot Will Not Detect Us. We Are Too Far Outside His Sensors."

"That doesn't mean he won't hear them clucking at each other like organic hens."

"Hey!" The two squabbling Seekers huff in unison.

Soundwave ignores the Seekers bickering around him, visor focused on the scientist as he comes to a halt near the flora. Based on the specimen sample jars that the mech begins pulling from a sub compartment, the red and azure's intentions are soon obvious. "Perceptor: Merely Acquiring Floral Specimens. Of No Interest, And No Threat."

"Great." Starscream mutters, falling to sit on his aft, arms crossing sullenly across his lap. "He'll be at it forever, then."

"You were a scientist, too, before the War." Skywarp reminds him.

"There wasn't a personal need for me to stop and peer at every shiny rock or every single floral or fauna that inhabit a single dirtball of a planet!" Starscream fires right back.

"Boy, you're grouchy." Skywarp glares at him. "Do you need more iron in your diet?"

Thundercracker intervenes before Starscream attempts to strangle his wing mate. THAT would certainly draw the Autobot's attention.

In the distance, in the middle of cataloguing and sealing another specimen in a second capsule, Perceptor is suddenly on his feet, looking over his shoulder in the direction from which he'd appeared.

"Someone Is Coming." Soundwave warns.

It is much to the Decepticons surprise when the scientist, once catching sight of the mech steadily approaching his position, ducks into the thick cover of the floral-choked ravine. Attempting to hide from the second mech.

"Odd." Starscream adds his assessment. "Hiding from another Autobot. Why?"

"Behavior: Unusual."

"Hey. Isn't that one of the Dinobots?"

Coming within their optical range, is in fact the Dinobot designated as Snarl. In his alternator form, Snarl walks purposefully in a straight line, head lowered, olfactory nodules nearly pressed flat to the dirt as he snuffles a slow track in Perceptor's direction, metal tail wagging left and right in a steady pitch.

"Is he tracking the scientist?"

"Obviously, you slagbrain."

"Hey!"

"He's closed in."

Snarl's nose bumps into the abandoned sample capsules, and he snorts in surprise at the sudden appearance of the instruments. Lifting his horned head higher, the mech sniffs at the air, before transforming into his bipedal form.

"Snarl found you!" The Dinobot dives into the thick vegetation, causing the thick shelter to shake around the brutal invasion.

The scientist yelps as he's snagged and captured, dragged out of his safe haven and into the light. "Snarl!" The microscope whines. "I told you that I'm a bit busy!"

"Perceptor always busy!" Snarl is clearly not happy at the scientist's answer, as well as his lack of a valid answer for hiding from the Dinobot. "Wheeljack gave energon treats to Dinobots. Perceptor come back to Ark and share with us!"

"But I'm busy!"

"Perceptor come!"

"I still have to take samples - Wait, what are you do - Snarl!!"

Not happy that the scientist refuses to submit, Snarl bends down and throws the scientist over his shoulder like a large sack of potatoes. "Perceptor not good at listening." Snarl is quick to admonish. "Perceptor come back another time to play with plants."

"I'm not playing! And put me down right this instant!" Perceptor beats helplessly at Snarl's back as he's effortlessly lugged by the giant. He gazes forlornly in the direction of his abandoned equipment.

The Decepticons observe in stunned silence as the microscope is carried off in the direction of the Ark, scarcely making out a final plea from the scientist, "Snarl, I really must insist that you put me down!..."

"...Well." Skywarp is the first to attempt to speak as the two mechs disappear from sight. "Guess that's one way to get a mech to listen."

Soundwave does not add input, but is privately relieved that he does not have to worry about a similar prospect with his young and much smaller creations.

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Grimlock / Prowl / regret  
(Pure smut version!!)

Prowl regrets ever giving Grimlock the pass code to his rooms.

"I have to meet with Prime in ten minutes." He gasps, fingers sinking between the plating atop the mech's shoulders.

Grimlock ignores Prowl's stubborn reminders, hands remaining firmly upon the tactician's aft, rocking the mech further and higher against the plating of a thick thigh.

Prowl's optics dim from one moment to the next, shuttering around the stabbing pleasure, straddling the Dinobot leader's thigh. With every induced thrusting motion, his lips kiss the plating over the mech's Spark chamber.

"We _really_ shouldn't be doing this right now."

"Less time Prowl complain, more time spent enjoying each other." Grimlock nips at the thick energon cable flowing under a section of Prowl's throat, teasing the Dinobot with an occasional glimpse.

A feeble whimper manages to escape, and Prowl hangs on tight as Grimlock lifts him up higher, pressing his back against the wall beside his recharge berth. At this angle, Grimlock's thigh manages to drag along an access port _just_ right.

With a low rumbling snarl of anticipation and frustrated pleasure, Prowl's fingers grip the back of the mech's head, jerking Grimlock's lips away from his throat, pulling the larger mech back far enough to growl, "You better make it worth my time, then."

Grimlock - battle mask unclasped and plates withdrawing into hidden chambered - shares a wicked grin of pleasure, sharp fangs the envy of any large voracious predator. He bends down, melding their lips together, echoing the tactician's gratified purr.

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Megatron / Perceptor / prize  
Sequel to 'Like an open book'

**"Do you honestly believe that you can outrun or hide from me?"**

Perceptor ducks behind a crumbled barrier, vents heaving from exertion. He shivers, daring to peek over his shoulder around his temporary shelter.

The tyrant's voice echoes down the hollowed out corridor of the building he's taking refuge in.

_'Bastard!'_ Perceptor finds it fitting to curse the Decepticon. _'He's toying with me... Like he's done every time he wants to __**play**__.'_

How could Perceptor had known that Megatron found pleasure in releasing him, teasing the mech with one opportunity after another to escape the tyrant's clutches...only to capture and drag the microscope back, regardless of how he screamed and begged to be set free.

Once more, the hunt was on. And with no weapon and lacking the proper experience to hold any physical threat against the much larger and stronger mech, the only means he could use was to try and run far enough and fast enough to escape.

The microscope refused to rise to the mech's verbal baiting. He hunkers down, slowly, quietly moving towards another adjacent room and connecting corridor.

Laughter trickles around him, causing a cold shiver to race up his spine.

**"Or are you teasing me by continuing to run and hide?"**

_'Just leave me alone!'_

**"No matter how far or how hard you run, I will always follow."**

"...leave me alone..." Perceptor can't halt the painful whisper.

**"You already know how this game will end."**

_'No!'_ No matter how many times he's failed to run far enough, or manage to escape the tyrant, he refuses to surrender. He has to continue on and keep resisting.

The thought of giving in to that...that monster.

The thought of enduring his touch yet again...

**"As a result, I will always seize my prize."**

A dreading, creeping, crawling sense of ice running down his dermal plating. He doesn't need to turn around to see the shadowed form stepping forward from the microscope's blind spot.

His shoulders slump. Again, he is defeated. And again, he is forced to submit under the hands already skimming over his shoulders and collarbone struts.

"Why don't you end this game and finish me?" Perceptor whispers, shuddering as the warm heavy bulk presses against his back.

Megatron curls both arms around the slender mech, trapping the microscope as a spider would a fly. "Because you're my prize." He whispers against the soft metal flesh of Perceptor's mandible. _"And I won't let go because I am such a possessive mech."_

_

* * *

_

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Inferno/ Red Alert / mistake  
(Smut!)

Red Alert thinks nothing of Inferno's appearance at the door of his rooms.

"Yes?" He asks, staring up at his larger friend.

He backs up, slightly startled by the hand pressed to his shoulder and carefully nudging him deeper into his room.

The door slides shut behind Inferno's back, and Red Alert can't help but feel trapped at hearing the loud clang of the metal barrier sliding closed.

"Red..." Inferno isn't able to find the right words.

"What is it?" Red Alert is thrown by the normally exuberant mech standing so quietly in front of him. "Inferno?"

"Promise not to hate me, Red?"

Red Alert frowns. "Inferno?" He repeats. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"I'm..." The larger mech shuffles his feet, optics turning in all other directions except Red Alert's. "I'm...I'm sorry!"

Red Alert planned for several events or admissions to occur following the fire truck's abrupt need to apologize for some unnamed injury or crime.

The Security Director did not expect to be literally swept off his feet, enwrapped with the solid warmth of Inferno's arms, head tilted back as the larger mech seals their mouths together.

Red Alert is reasonably startled by this attack, hands trapped and fisted against Inferno's chest. He swoons helplessly, unused to such manhandling. Primus, when was there a time that any mech or femme held him close and tight?

"MMmmph." The backs of his knees smack the edge of the recharge berth, and he clings to Inferno as they both suddenly begin to fall backwards.

With far more precision and grace than Red Alert could possibly dredge while his CPU's systems erratic from the sudden attack, his responses muddled, Inferno twists around and pillows Red Alert's fall, sprawling over the fire truck's front.

He whimpers, shifting restlessly under the sure hands sliding down a trembling back, along the seams of his hip joints and sensitive plating atop his thighs. Not once during the entire clash or fall do their lips or glossa separate, initiating a private dance, intertwining and stealing Red Alert's senses like an illegal drug.

Hands fumble, hindering separate goals. While Inferno's hands struggle between mapping the territory of his body and coaxing the latch over his access port free, Red Alert curses silently as he struggles to keep steady and tug free Inferno's interface cable.

Finally lips separate with a loud pop, Inferno's vents working overtime to attempt to cool him down. "Let me.." He coaxes his partner to relax and allow him to help.

Red Alert diligently follows his coaxing, laying hands trustingly on top of Inferno's shoulders.

The connection is gentle - so sweet too sweet that it bites and burns, so painful, it burns like acid - and Inferno must catch him as he jerks forward, crying out at the first wave of electricity fields and flooding data.

"Red!" Inferno guides him, gripping the red handholds of the Security Director's hips. "Steady.." The fire truck is biting his bottom lip so hard, Red Alert knows that beads of energon threaten to break the soft metal flesh.

"Please!" Red Alert can do nothing but rock helplessly beneath the mech's firm grip, riding the pleasure as best he could and is physically able.

Inferno grits his teeth, forcing his optics to pitch into darkness, knowing that merely watching the way Red Alert is riding him will send him into an overload far too early.

Sadly, it can't last forever. Both mechs are too wound up, too needy. Red Alert is helpless but to fall headlong into the heart of the onrushing tempest, feeling as if he is dying...as if he is being reborn during this long endless swell of pleasurable agony.

Inferno's arms catch him as he slumps bonelessly across the larger mech's front, the fire truck holding him tight, whispering words of adoration and praise - stuttering at the end of his sentence as he too falls victim - overload washing over and drowning the larger mech. Inferno is another willing victim...and he refuses to let go of his partner no matter the ferocity and consuming powerful overload.

Their vents cycle more blessed cool air, chests rising and following in tempo. Red Alert's lips press against the warm plating, face relaxed in bliss.

Inferno pants raggedly, helm falling back limp against the head of the berth.

"...This was a mistake."

The fire truck would rear up if he weren't weighed down by Red Alert, blue optics expanded wide. He is dragged from his lull, and feels a deep stab of hurt, at the Security Director's words. "W-What."

Red Alert buries his forehead against Inferno's shoulder, shifting as much as he is able since their forms are still intimately connected. "...Happened too fast. Next time we'll have to do better." A yawn captures the mech, and he snuggles deeper into the fire truck's arms. "Too tired now. We'll try again later." Inferno's audio receptors listen to Red Alert's continued muttering as the mech falls into deep recharge.

Inferno embraces Red Alert as close as he is physically able, limbs tangled with the mech his holds so dear. A beatific smile graces the fire truck's lips, and he rolls onto his side, tucking Red Alert between him and the berth-side wall, dropping a soft brushing kiss against the Security Director's forehead.

_'Next time.'_ He shivers at his partner's promise.

Yeah. Next time.

As long as they had forever, then why not?


	5. Chapter 5

_**Transformers drabbles5 (Constructicon/Perceptor drabble set)**_  
Title: Drabbles5 (Constructicon/Perceptor Drabbles)  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned by Hasbro. Not mine, sadly.  
Summary: G1. Drabbles that follow the Hook/Perceptor/a long time ago drabble. Only one smut this time around, though.  
Please excuse any horrible characterization of any or all mechs. I'm not too familiar with the Constructicons, so all mistakes are mine alone.

Scavenger / Perceptor / discoveries  
Scrapper/ Perceptor/ headache  
Bonecrusher/ Perceptor/ flawed  
Mixmaster/ Perceptor/ alchemy  
Long Haul/ Perceptor/ retrieval

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Hook / Perceptor / a long time ago

Scavenger / Perceptor / discoveries  
Sequel to 'A Long Time Ago'

We felt guilty.

But found it necessary.

I helped to build you a beautiful guilded cage. Down here in the depths of this base, where no other mech may peer into its dark abyss and see what precious secret we have tucked away.

These chambers...Megatron and Soundwave suspect their existence, but say nothing. Permitting us to do as we wish.

Tucked behind craftily hidden sealed doors, and down a labyrinth of corridors, there can only be _you_.

We built these chambers in mind for you. Never would we cage you in a tight, cold and dank cell.

No.

Only the best for you.

These combined rooms, a beauty that would be the envy of Primus himself. The god of destruction, Unicron, would find no fault, and no need, to destroy such perfection.

Humans would call it a cold shell of glass. A locked door grinning smooth teeth of ivory. Etched bars made of alabaster.

But we find it pleasing to see what materials we can bend and meld, bringing them to a shining, lustrous _perfection_. Making the entire chamber glitter and tempt the optics with different facets of color at every turn.

The material is sturdy, hardier than this dirtball planet's oldest diamonds. And how they shine, brilliance to rival that precious stone...

Yet, it all means nothing until we place you inside.

But we would never leave you alone, to slowly wither and fade into dust. We are not so cruel.

My brothers and I are intimately aware of your insatiable curiosity, the thirsting desire for knowledge and analysis.

This planet would utterly fascinate you.

If you had ever laid optics on it, that is.

No. You never had the chance, did you? Not during your stasis. Not when you were mercilessly dragged into this base and callously thrown into a cell to await deactivation or enslavement.

We can not take the risk of allowing you outside, lest you try to run away.

To apologize for our bitter decision, every time my brothers and I are summoned onto the field, we never leave without bringing back a prize worthy of you.

Over the last orns all of our gifts nearly overflow from a spare chamber. I am forced many times to build more shelving units to hold more and more, until we dread allowing you inside in fear of the room crumbling under the weight of such plentiful bounty!

We will have to build another, since there is not a remote possibility that we will stop granting you new gifts.

This time, it is my turn.

From your seat, optics lowered to a data pad that highlights the latest technological advances among the organic species of this planet, you lift your helm and turn in attention as I enter the room. My arms hidden behind my back, concealing my latest gift.

You tilt your head, in curiosity and poorly concealed anticipation.

And oh, how your optics brighten when I reveal the large mineral and stone slab shielded between my hands.

"The humans call this a 'fire opal'." I do not hesitate to hand it over to you as you leap from your seat, eagerly accepting the precious burden. I follow as you move back and carefully place the cragged mineral composite upon the table.

"So many colors." You murmur in delight, turning your helm left and right, exploring every diverse facet and hue.

"Do you like it?"

The extended silence gives me time to fear the worst.

But the fear melts away as you grant me a sublime smile of pure joy.

And I rediscover how hot and bright my Spark can burn.

And once again, I feel joy.

* * *

Scrapper/ Perceptor/ headache  
Sequel to 'Discoveries'

Is it too much of me to ask for a moment of reprieve?

Is it too much for those fools to cease their piteous whining about the latest abuse and damage that the rebels have placed upon their frames?

Are my brothers and I no better than medical drones ceaselessly repairing these thankless incompetent bumbling clowns?

Primus. They are all enough to give me a ruthless and aching headache.

My patience grows even shorter. And more than once I am tempted to bury a shell into their cerebral hemispheres if only to shut them up.

I must retreat from the medical ward to avoid acting upon that tempestuous urge, and consequently avert a one-way trip down to the brig.

While still suffering considerable pain, I remember to mask my steps and direction, activating the mechanism to reveal the hidden doorway leading into the labyrinth. Easily circumnavigating the traps and shunning the connecting corridors that only lead to dead-ends.

When I step into your chamber, it is as if you are anticipating me.

You sit, calm and quiet, at the edge of your recharge berth. Caught in the midst of fiddling with small electrical components spread across the bare surface of the berth.

But there is no cause for alarm at this sight. We feel safe in allowing you to handle without the risk of you designing and implementing a short-wave radio to broadcast for rescue.

Yes. We are not foolish enough to ignore that while you spend so much time within each of the Constructicons' company, and no matter how many times we attempt to hold your attentions away from the world outside your cage, that there have been several attempts of escape.

The furthest you'd managed to escape on one sole occasion was beyond this door, but you found yourself irrefutably lost within the labyrinth that you were forced to sit and wait for one of my brothers to locate and rescue you.

For the moment, you are at ease within your captivity.

...For now, at least.

You are unperturbed at my approach, nor do you show any frustration or temper when I carelessly shove the electronics aside to make room for myself upon the berth. The heavy trowel mounted into my upper back folds up effortless at my silent command, providing me a far more comfortable position.

You shift aside, adjusting to my larger size, allowing me to stretch the length of the berth, whilst laying my aching helm against the inviting cradle of your lap.

Once I am adequately comfortable, you begin running azure fingers, patiently, achingly soft and merciful, finding the throbbing pain that batters my cerebral circuits and CPU. Gently soothing the ferocious migraine away piece by stubborn piece, nursing the stiffened, hypersensitive dermal plating upon my forehead and around my optics to lessen.

I moan in gratified bliss, optics shuttering near black in relief.

"Is it really so hard for you to rest and relax on your own free will?"

My optics blink, re-lighting to stare up at your inquiring gaze. "Try dealing with the dunderheads who never cease to bother me during my projects." I mutter crossly.

"Do you ever wonder if they know how much that they are bothering you?"

I snort at the thought. "Please. Those fools barely have the time to pull their head out of their afts to determine the time or day, let alone put some _thought_ into their actions."

"Don't be so quick to underestimate your adversaries." You are quick to warn. "Isn't that a favorite saying? After all, they may not know the overall effect of their presence...but they do know that you respond, and _that alone_ is enough for them."

I remain silent.

Your argument is not illogical. In fact, it brings to light several events and minor details that I have failed to notice during my shattered temper.

"I'll show them." I snarl in promise. Reaching up, I clasp one of your hands, allowing the other to remain and continue its careful, expert massage across my helm pulling the other hand down to rest atop the plates covering my Spark, entwining our fingers together as I squeeze firmly. _"I'll show them all."_ This time, my voice rises forth in a dark, low growl, and your fingers thrum against my chest plates in response to the deep tremble.

* * *

Bonecrusher/ Perceptor/ flawed  
Sequel to 'Headache'

"You think we don't know?"

I refuse to acknowledge Swindle's taunt.

Instead, my fingers clench tighter around the cup of high-grade, drawing Hook's attention, the other Constructicon's red gaze narrowing as he takes note of the deep furrows into the sides of the flask of energon.

Swindle is far from over.

He leans closer, purposely invading my space.

"How long do you plan to hide your little pet away from us?"

Hook stiffens, expelling a sharp hiss of surprise and agitation. "You little conniving glitch-"

"Primus! You really thought we wouldn't notice the way you all slink around your labs?!" Swindle sneers at the other mech, and if looks could kill, Hook's fury would have buried Swindle far beneath the earth as a mere wasted husk. "Doesn't take a genius to connect the dots. With the mech's disappearance from the brig, and the way all of you carried on soon after that."

"You should take care to watch your words, Swindle." I am being kind in sharing a fair warning to the unmoving Combaticon.

"Oh, please!" Swindle ignores the warning. His disgusting face twists in glee, leaning closer, digging deeper to garner a reaction from us. "What's wrong? Has your little pet grown bored with you already? Worried that one of us low-lives is interested in a little taste--"

_Crunch._

It's perversely satisfying to hear the crunch of the mech's nasal ridge as I bury my fist into his face, the impact of the blow knocking the mech clear backwards to land indignantly upon his aft.

"Bonecrusher! No!" Hook shouts, demanding for me to stop.

But I can not.

Swindle's hands beat feebly at my chassis and chin, but I casually bat them aside.

Straddling the mech, I pound my fist into his face again...and again...and again...

Hook manages to cajole Megatron into not sending me down into the brig. But my leader delivers a cold, stern warning, promising that a second incident would result in severe repercussions.

I refuse the company of my brothers, leaving our lab quarters, almost breaking the hidden panel as I hasten to reach the sanctuary of your arms and comfort.

You must be exhausted...to have been deep within recharge.

You jump, startled at the rushing sound of the door opening, optics coming online and blinking in confusion. An azure hand tiredly rubs away the weariness circling the blue optical glass. "Bonecrusher?"

I span the distance separating us, and nearly knock you flat back onto the recharge berth.

You wobble under my superior mass and size, arms instinctively circling my shoulders to counterbalance our combined weight. "Bonecrusher!"

My arms snake around your waist, and I cling to you tight. Tighter than a sparkling clutching to its creator. "It's not true, is it?" My words drum across the surface of your stomach plating. "You're not going to leave us."

"...How can I?" Perceptor is bluntly honest. "This is both my home, and my prison."

You gasp, in surprise and discomfort, as my arms thread tighter, causing your dermal plate to groan in warning. "You won't leave us!" The snarl causes my chassis to quake in fury. "I won't let you go!"

"I know!" You manage to wheeze out. Your forehead rests atop my helm as you slump forward in aching defeat. "I know..." You whisper.

"_...why..._" The begging whine in my vocal processor leaves a bitter taste across my glossa, stinging sharp as old rust. "Why won't you return our affections?"

You remain silent. And I can only imagine the hushed answers running through your CPU.

_"Because I don't know who you are anymore."_

"How can I feel anything for traitors?"

"Do you really think I am capable of returning affection towards my jailer."

Worst still is the one that haunts my very Spark:

_"Because there is not a chance that I could possibly love you."_

"Say it!" I command. I beg. "Say that you love us!"

_Say that you love me!!_

Your fingers weave across the back of my helm, nudging me to back up from my huddled position and lean upward to allow our foreheads to brush.

It may only be an act of pity. An act of unconditioned kindness.

But it is a mercy that only you can deliver.

And with the brush of those three words you whisper, syllables dancing over the dark surface of my battle mask...

I no longer feel empty.

* * *

Mixmaster/ Perceptor/ alchemy  
Sequel to 'Flawed'  
Smut!!

It follows one of the most basic principles of alchemy:

With every reaction, comes an equal or greater reaction.

Digging my fingers into your hip joints, and coaxing you to rock your hips deeper into mine, drags a low whimper, and results in your fingers dragging across my collarbone struts.

...My brothers will not be too pleased to find that I am using my workstation for far more...enjoyable distractions.

Frag that. When they find out that - after we've finally allowed you minimal range to wander outside of your chambers - that I am using your newfound freedom to sate my own desires, they may be tempted to separate my head from my body.

But...the picture that you paint while in the throes of uninhibited ecstasy, may make that worth such a fate.

"M-Mixmaster!"

Hmmm. It must be extremely difficult for you to remain still, judging by how fiercely you tremble within my lap. I am aware that you're half-afraid that the chair will collapse under our combined weight.

The thought nearly derives a snort of derision. Really. As if anything built by a Constructicon could not handle such rambunctious amusements.

"You're cruel to take advantage of the situation." Perceptor hisses into my audio receptors.

For that, I rock forward, driving the looped interface cables to twine together and elicit sharp snapping sparks of electricity between our bodies. "You wanted a demonstration."

Your vents are nearly overheating. "I asked to see the progress of the project you -- ohh! -- were talking about the other d-daaay." The electricity is stealing your focus, every spark causing your optics to flash.

"Pleasure before duty." Is my comeback.

"You inverted the saying." You scold. Ahhh... Such a responsible mech, and so quick to notify me of my error. "It's duty before pleasure."

"Details, details." You are quick to wrap your arms tighter around my shoulders as I stand up suddenly, the motion causing you to yelp in surprise. The worktable shudders under our weight, and you thump flat upon your back across its surface.

"If it makes you feel better." I purr, drinking in your stunned face, and the wave of pleasure that follows as I thrust forward. "Please continue to remind me of the error of my ways."

* * *

Long Haul/ Perceptor/ retrieval  
Sequel to 'Alchemy'

_"How could you let him out of your sights!"_

"Find him!"

"Where is he?!"

"We should have never let him leave the base!"

"You were supposed to watch him!'

**"I KNOW!"** I snarl across my end of our shared comm link.

I ignore my brothers' continued shouts and furious demands for answers, continuing to run headlong through the tall husk of the large human city that the Decepticon forces had wiped clean of human occupancy orns ago.

Primus! Where could you have gone!

All it had taken was mere moments turned away to record our steady progress through the city, and suddenly, you no longer stood at my side.

It had taken vorns for us to trust you, and ourselves, enough to allow for further ventures outside of the base. My brothers and I thought that this particular city would offer the best testing site for your first excursion upon the planet.

Now look at how that idealistic hope had come back around to slap us across the face!

And since you and I were partners during our own venture through the city, the error fell primarily upon me for being careless enough to turn my back for one instant.

It couldn't have been more than three breems from the last moment I was with you.

Where could you have gone?!

Running, I break past a line of buildings, arriving along the shore that faces the toppled remains of the human city's tall monument, a robed female bearing a torch high above her head. The immense structure, now cut down to her knees - most of the pieces submerged in the bay below the structure's foundation level - one of the many casualties of war during the first Decepticon assault upon the dirtball planet.

You stand under the shadow of the toppled monument, not seeming to care or to notice the lapping water that kisses the shore.

Weakened at the knees from relief, and the long arduous run, I half-walk, half-stumble in your direction, preparing to demand an answer for your disappearance.

"I read about this monument." Perceptor's voice is hushed, a respectful whisper in the face of the desecrated structure. "On the Internet."

I say nothing, only pausing to stand behind your shorter form. "Why did you leave?" I am quick to demand.

"Imagine the pride that the humans felt, after completing this monument." You continue. Face downcast, contemplating the unrecognizable scattered pieces of rubble dotting the shore, no doubt the remains of the regal female statue. "All that precious time and labor that the humans sacrificed to build this...only to have it broken by a few careless artillery shots."

My hand falls to clasp you shoulder, squeezing, lightly, to direct your attention. _"Perceptor. Why?"_

You remain silent, and for a moment, I suspect you will not answer.

"I guess...I wanted proof. Proof that everything has changed; that this planet is changed. To see how far and wide the Decepticons have spread across this world." You lift your chin, speaking softly in reflection. "And now...I know my place...and where I stand, right here, right now."

"Were you trying to run away from it all?" I can not help but to ask. "Were you trying to run away from us?"

Because that is our greatest fear: For you to continue to try and to find some measure of escape. To eventually succeed, leaving us behind and never once looking back.

"Maybe..." You pause, and I feel my tanks quake, nauseous at the thought that, in fact, you wished for nothing more than to be free of us. "Maybe at first, when you and your brothers retrieved me from the brig. But now..."

"Yes?"

You turn around, causing my hand to slip off your shoulder.

Following the loss, you catch my hand as it hovers between our forms. Twining our fingers together, and giving them a light squeeze.

"I'm not going to run away anymore." You promise. "I...I don't want to be alone in this world."

I step back, turning partway, our hands and arms creating a lifeline between us. I pause to wait, as the length of our arms grows taut. Waiting. Waiting to see if you will follow or halt and plead or refuse and remain stubbornly fast in place.

And you take that small step to span the distance between us, allowing me to lead.

Following unresistingly as I lead the way back to my brothers who are growing impatient at waiting.

"Let's go home." A soft sigh and a bright smile greet my attention as I turn back to face you at the sound of those words.

"Home..." I taste the flavor of that word. Savoring it.

Yes. Yes, that sounded...just right.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Transformers drabbles 6**_  
Title: Drabbles6  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned by Hasbro. Not mine, sadly.  
Summary: G1. More drabbles courtesy of the pairing generator goodness. The first is definite smut, and obvious slash. The second piece is the sequel to the Inferno/Red Alert/captured drabble.

Sunstreaker/ Red Alert/ kinky

Megatron/ Inferno/ traitor  
Sequel to 'Captured'

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Sunstreaker/ Red Alert/ kinky

And the Autobots wondered why Red Alert was so hyper-paranoid.

Who wouldn't be when one had to deal with one of the infamous twins?

"Sunstreaker!!" Red Alert is embarrassed by the whining tone of his voice modulator, the mech running to hide on the other side of the desk and line of monitors. "Get out! Out, out, out!" He commands, hissing like an irate feline. Honestly! How dare the mech invade the sanctity of his office!

Sunstreaker grins devilishly, stalking the Security Director. "Cooommme on, Red." He purrs, standing opposite of the work station, across from the red and white mech. "No need to be so shy."

"Go bother someone else, you deranged daffodil!"

"Hey!" The mech pouts. "That's just cruel."

Red Alert snarls low in frustration. "Last night was a mistake." He attempts to reason with the stubborn fool. "There was too much high-grade at that blasted party. Blame Inferno! He literally dragged me to the event!"

"But, Red. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it?"

The Security Director sputters in indignation and distress. "You practically tied me to the recharge berth!"

Sunstreaker is slow to edge towards the corner of the workstation, carefully working his way closer. "Sides misses you, too."

"If you think for one breem that I will be tempted by you or your deranged brother and you-your insidious words--"

"It's not like we're devils, or anything!"

"So you say!---aaahhh!"

"Gotcha!" Sideswipe cuts Red Alert off from the opposite side, scooping up the shorter mech and into his arms.

"You--!" Red Alert kicks feebly at the air. Glaring acidly at Sunstreaker. "You purposely distracted me!"

"Well, to be honest, I didn't know he had joined us." Sunstreaker replies in complete honesty. He circles around the table to stand in front of Red Alert, and the Security Director 'eeps' when sandwiched between the two warriors. "But since we're here..."

Sideswipe hugs Red Alert tightly - but not too much so as not to dent his slimmer frame - bumping the sides of their helms together. "Come on, Red. Don't be mad." He implores gamely. "Can't we just enjoy spending time with you?"

"And touching you?" Sunstreaker pipes in.

"And holding you?" Sideswipe follows.

Red Alert's chin is tucked low, trying to conceal the humiliating warm spread of energon that has flushed the dermal plating of his cheeks. He bites his bottom lip, releasing a whimper as Sunstreaker coyly massages the smooth edges of his horns, the sensitive plating and sensory receptors responding to the expert touch.

"Come on, Red." Sunstreaker whispers against the seam of his lips.

"Is it really so bad?" Sideswipe purrs into the other audio receptor, fingers sinking into the cable junctions between Red Alert's hips and thighs, pinching the sensitive wires.

Suddenly the three are interrupted by a startled "W-woah!"

Sideswipe yelps as Red Alert's head shoots up, cracking against his chin. Sunstreaker jerks back, whipping around the face the entrance. "The door is locked for a reason, big guy!" He snarls in distemper.

Inferno's optics blink in absolute surprise, absorbing the sight of the two mechs sandwiching the Security Director. "Sorry! Sorry! My bad." He apologizes, lifting his hands into the air in surrender. He backs up quickly, reaching for the data-key pad. "I'll just leave you three alone..."

"Inferno!!" Red Alert snaps, twisting around within the two pairs of arms. "Get back here!!" He demands. How dare his friend leave him in the warriors' mercies!

"Sure, Inferno. Stay." Sideswipe interrupts. "We're just going to have mindless kinky interface. Maybe you could help us set up one of the cameras."

"No, no!" Inferno backs up even quicker. "I'll be going now!"

"Don't you dare leave me here--"

Red Alert's furious threats are cut off as the door slides shut, and Inferno hears the lock slide into place.

Hands shaking slightly in surprise and embarrassment, Inferno checks to make sure that the door is completely inaccessible until the mechs within decide to open it from their side.

"Should'a known better than ta use the override code." Inferno is tempted to kick himself for that particular slight.

He can't help but chuckle in good-humor, his CPU recalling Red Alert's furious yet embarrassed face.

Looks like the twins would be keeping his friend occupied, preventing the Security Director from becoming too entrapped by his camera screens and his obsessive and paranoid review of the digital recordings from every security monitor in the last three stellar cycles.

As Inferno turns to leave, he catches sight of Prowl making his rounds to check in with certain mechs, the tactician carrying several data pads in hand. "Better not bother Red Alert right now, Prowl." Inferno warns as he strides past the mech.

"Hmm?" Prowl pauses, surprised. "Is he busy at the moment?"

"Mmhm." Inferno answers with a sharp nod. "You...might need to check on him later. A lot later. Better yet, check in with him at his private quarters tomorrow..."

"If he's able to get away from his berth, that is." Inferno's mutter is hushed, but not enough for Prowl to miss. "Might be a bit sore by tomorrow."

"W-What did you say?" Prowl suddenly demands.

"Nothing!"

* * *

The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator

Megatron/ Inferno/ traitor  
Sequel to 'Captured'

"Red Alert is quick the remarkable mech."

Inferno's helm remains lowered, not bothering to look up at the visitor on the opposite side of the plasma bars.

Megatron appears not to notice his audience's clear dismissal. Instead, he casually crosses his arms across his chest, leaning comfortably back against the wall facing the barred cell's entrance.

"I made efforts to know the reputation and skills of every Autobot stationed on this planet." Megatron continues, ruby optics narrowed into fine slits. "I knew what to anticipate with the Security Director. But imagine my surprise...when I find that he continues to excel past my expectations.

"You Autobots." The Decepticon leader's sneer is obvious, without Inferno having to look up. "Cutting down your own comrade for daring to stand out from the ranks because of such a minor glitch; when all that glitch caused was for him to be hyper-paranoid about the state of security regarding his comrades' well-being. _Trying to ensure your very survival_...Regardless of the extremes that he felt forced to take.

"But perhaps I should not be quick to judge." Megatron is quick to counter his assessment. "After all..." He purrs sardonically, disdain twisting his lips to bare ivory teeth. "Look at the prize I attained. Security details are up by 57%, according to Soundwave's recent assessment. Discontent among the ranking officers is minor, thanks to Red Alert's persistent efforts to maintain a harmonious relationship among his peers, while enduring the other soldiers' complaints and insistence for relaying internal issues among the units."

"What is the point of all this?" Inferno's demand is whisper-soft, accompanied by the painful creak of aching plating and stiff wires, frame still showing fragments of damage resulting from the Seekers' hands from over two lunar cycles.

Megatron does not deign to answer the prisoner's inquiry. "I may even be tempted to send Red Alert temporarily to Cybertron, and under Shockwave's wing. His assistance would be vital in helping Shockwave contain the damned rebel forces, and provide Shockwave more accessible means in dealing with the security and affairs in regards to the Decepticon strongholds stretched across the planet."

"Megatron..." The Decepticon grins smugly at the warning growl.

"And speaking of 'wing'..." The mech is ruthless, continuing to sink more poisonous barbs into his unwilling audience. "It may be best to send Red Alert away on vacation, given that he is growing strained in dealing with Starscream's unending advances." **That** particular juicy detail dragged a sharp flinch from the fire truck. "From what I last heard, Red Alert has taken refuge within Soundwave quarters, finding the telepath's company far more savory than the stubbornly persistent Seeker."

Megatron's snorts in disgust at Inferno's soft indignant curse. "Get your CPU out of the gutter, fool. Soundwave treats Red Alert more like his own sparkling, since he's handled first-hand with the Security Director's transition into our ranks after Hook and Scrapper took the opportunity to optimize Red Alert's memory banks and erase the files regarding his time among the Autobots. He won't seduce your precious mech. I assure you."

Inferno clearly finds Megatron's assurance hard to stomach. "And why should I listen to anything you have to say!" He charges, baring his teeth like an injured, cornered beast. "You're not better than Starscream! You forced Red Alert into being nothing more than your slave, _and you treat it as if he should be grateful to you! _"

"I could have simply ordered his termination, instead." Megatron agrees. "Would that sooth your temper?"

Megatron raises an eyebrow ridge, mildly amused at the words that spill out of the mech's mouth. _'My, my.'_ He notes, impressed. _'I wasn't aware that he knew such foul language.'_

"Why won't you just tell me why you're here?!" Inferno snarls. "If you won't grant me that, then leave me in peace!"

"I'm here because I'm curious." Megatron is finally readily to supply the reason behind his visit. "Why do you continue to demand to see Red Alert? Why? Do you honestly believe I will allow such a thing?"

"I want to see him!"

"Again, why?" Megatron insists. "He won't know you or your name, or any of the other Autobots. You're not even a memory."

"Because..." Inferno wilts before the Decepticon's gaze. "Because...I..."

"Because you care for him." Megatron realizes, sharing his comprehension. "Because you _need_ him."

_'Because you cherish him.'_

And in return, Inferno lowers his optics in defeat and utter despair.

"Everything was perfect before we were brought here." Inferno whispers brokenly.

"A minor stumbling block." Megatron cruelly cuts him down. "The only reason you no longer stand together, is because you choose not to be with him."

"In case you've forgotten, I'm locked in this cage!" Inferno snaps. "How can I possibly be with him, when all I am is your prisoner?!"

"You and I both know what else you could be."

Inferno's vents hiss, absorbing the meaning behind the large mech's insinuation. "But...but I...the Autobots--"

"Will either bow before me, or break." Megaton again cuts him down. "What makes you think that you are in a different predicament, regardless of sitting within this cell, or within your quarters upon the Ark?"

Inferno rakes a hand over the insignia stenciled upon his frame. Resting upon the crimson mark signifying the depths of his loyalty.

"You keep saying that you want to be with Red Alert." Megatron steps away from the wall, approaching to stand uncomfortably close to the plasma bars, dermal plates absorbing the heat that sets his sensory receptors to flash warning bars. "So tell me: What are you willing to sacrifice in order to attain that measure of content?

"How far are you willing to go in order to once again hold him in your arms and find some measure of peace?"

Ruby optics narrow into warning slits, glaring in obvious discomfort. "Starscream, please get out of my way." Red Alert backs up, shoulder tires thumping against the wall.

The Seeker is persistent, trapping the mech by bracketing his arms on either side of the hunkering Security Director. "Can't run away now, can you, Red?" He snickers, enjoying the thrill of pleasure and danger as the officer's eyes threaten to burn through his plating.

"Cease this harassment." Red Alert orders, forced into trying to enforce superiority. "You are well on your way to receiving a reprimand."

The Seeker pushes close, so close that Red Alert's vents hiss in alarm, freezing to prevent their lips from coming into contact. "Make me." Starscream commands darkly.

Red Alert is unprepared to act upon his threat, CPU desperately trying to gather any semblance of a plan of action.

Starscream's attention flickers, head turning to follow a flash of movement from the corner of his optics.

Both he and Red Alert are stunned mute by the black fist smashing into the Seeker's face, sending the mech airborne.

Starscream's wings twist at an alarming angle as they catch his fall. The mech shrieks in agony and fury, flopping across the floor of the corridor in horrible pain. **"YOU!!"** The Seeker's howl could raise the deepest corners of the Pit.

"You can comprehend how badly I've wanted to do that." Red Alert's mysterious rescuer informs, standing at ease at the Security Director's side, while fastidiously wiping the flecks of paint off his knuckles, remnants of the brutal impact of fist meeting face.

"How dare you, you pathetic excuse of a - " Starscream roars onto his feet, and Red Alert immediately flinches back, beholding the hateful intention of murder burning in the Seeker's furious damaged face.

"Ah, ah." The larger black and red mech warns, raising a hand and revealing a seamless transformation into a smooth black nozzle.

_'A fire truck?'_ Red Alert realizes the mech's earth vehicle design, but then shudders in horror. _'How does he expect a fire hose to match Starscream's null rays?'_

Starscream has also come to the same realization. "Do you really think that your pathetic excuse of a weapon will match mine?" He scoffs.

"Hmm. I don't know..." There is a 'whoomp' of hot air, and both Red Alert and Starscream's optics widen in stunned disbelief as a sudden burst - a burning gout of red and gold flames - erupts from the mech's hand. The mech sneers in depraved enjoyment at the Seeker's horrified optics. "I wonder how long it takes for Seekers to burn?"

Amused laughter erupts behind the fire truck. Red Alert spins around, catching sight of the large silver mech. "Lord Megatron!" The Security Director is quick to salute his superior. "S-Sir! Starscream! These two mechs - "

"Calm yourself, Red Alert." Megatron steps forward, cutting into Red Alert's fumbling stutters, interrupting the mech from tumbling into a complete meltdown. "It looks to me as if our latest recruit is eager to introduce himself to Starscream." Megatron grins brazenly at the furious Seeker.

"You -You condone this!" Starscream is spitting mad. "You - "

"Did you hit your head too hard, Starscream?" Megatron asks in mock sympathy. "Is it necessary for _me_ to explain to _you_ why /iI/i decided to have _my_ latest solider outfitted and optimized as _I_ saw fit?"

"But him, of all mechs - "

"Leave us, Starscream." Megatron insults the Seeker further by turning his back upon the injured mech, motioning for Red Alert and the fire truck to follow. "Go bother Hook for repairs."

Starscream seethes in a fury, glaring hatefully at his leader's back. But not daring or stupid enough to rush the larger mech, and risk facing the deadly fusion cannon mounted upon the Decepticon's forearm.

The fire truck flashes the fire nozzle one final time in warning, before transforming back into its regular hand. He turns around in undisguised contempt of the Seeker, matching the Security Director's pace as the two mechs follow their leader's commanding gesture to follow.

Red Alert pounces as soon as they are out of sight and audio of Seeker. "Lord Megatron." He bids, careful not to test his leader's temper. "Is it wise to leave Starscream in such a foul state and temper?"

"If that imbecilic is foolhardy enough to try something, then I am eager to deliver the proper punishment for his transgressions." Megatron answers.

"As you say, Sir." Red Alert submits to his leader's decision.

"Let us forget about Starscream." Megatron directs his Security Director's attention to the mech following.

"Red Alert, I want you to meet our latest recruit." Megatron lays a hand on the Security Director's shoulder, coaxing him to turn and face his newest comrade.

"Red Alert, meet Arson. Arson, meet Red Alert."

"Sir." Arson nods his head in greeting. "It is a pleasure."

"I believe you are now quite familiar with Arson's special capabilities." Megatron smirks in approval, obviously privy to the standoff between the recruit and Seeker.

"It...was quite unusually, and very surprising." Red Alert admits. "Such a weapon will be a valuable asset among the other officers."

"I am happy that you approve." Arson purrs.

Red Alert would have moved back at the low sibilant, but instead remains fast by his leader's hand. He looks up at the taller mech for guidance, ruby optics pleading for Megatron's command to follow.

"A Decepticon seizes the opportunity laid before him; both in duty, and in pleasure." Megatron prescribes his teaching to the two mechs standing in front of him. "Don't hide behind cheap words and ridiculous morals like an Autobot." He warns.

"Sir." Arson acknowledges his leader with a curt bow of his head.

"Sir." Red Alert bows his head in submission.

"Show him to his designated quarters, Red Alert." Megatron waves his arm to indicate the corridor for Arson to take to reach the barracks. Arson follows the Decepticon leader's direction, calmly walking at an even pace down the indicated path, all the while aware that at his back that Megatron and Red Alert have yet to move.

"Lord Megatron - " Red Alert is clearly uncomfortable. And clearly not blind that Arson is neither unattractive, and neither disinterested, in the Security Director.

"Don't be so timid, Red Alert." Megatron will accept no withdraw. "At your age, it is highly unlikely that you are stainless. You know the pleasures of a good interface."

Megatron chuckles at the mortified expression that paints across the mech's face. "S-Sir!"

"Go to him." Megatron slides his hand down from Red Alert's shoulder, and compels the Security Director forward with a blunt nudge against the small of his back. "Your shift is long over and you are due for rest and recharge," Another sharp smirk of pleasure at the chagrined mech's face. "Although how much rest and recharge you may gain after this cycle..." He leaves the sentence to hang between them.

"Lord Megatron!" Red Alert yelps in horror, appearing ready to clap his hands over his audio receptors.

"Don't disappoint me, Red Alert." Megatron feels confident to leave the Security Director to find his own way to the barracks and to share company with their latest soldier.

_'Ah, yes.'_ He decides, walking away, privately anticipating Soundwave's disapproval the following cycle when Red Alert arrives late for his shift at his office. _'I believe these two will fail to disappoint me.'_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Drabbles 7**_  
**Title: Drabbles  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned by Hasbro. Not mine, sadly.  
Summary: G1. More drabbles courtesy of the pairing generator goodness, and my own interests in remaining with some of my favorite characters.  
I'm trying something new, too. Drabbles, but I'm trying to stick with a particular letter of the alphabet. All I did was sit down and write the first few words that came to mind starting with that letter.**

**Helpless  
Soundwave/Perceptor**

**Honesty  
Surprise!xSurprise!xRed Alert (Threesome!)**

**Home  
StarscreamxPerceptor**

**Host  
Megatron/Optronix**

**Hacker  
Soundwave/Optimus Prime**

**

* * *

**

**Hostage  
Shockwave/Perceptor  
(Sequel to Ramjet/Perceptor/Alone Together)**

**Helpless  
Soundwave/Perceptor**  
_Why Soundwave aimed to overthrow the regime, and spark full-blown war upon Cybertron._

"Why Won't You Let The Mech Go, Soundwave?" Shockwave asks, exasperation tinting his words.

"......" Soundwave does not turn away from scrutinizing the horizon of the city, red optics burning into the glass plating separating him miles up from the city streets.

"This Relationship Will Not Work, Regardless Of Your Infatuation." Shockwave hisses darkly. "And Regardless Of How He Feels About You."

_It is a memory from not so long ago.__**Why**__ - that made him pause and make it so difficult to even __**think**__, let alone act on the idea of moving away from this peculiar and curiously intriguing mech._

Soundwave, quite literally, stumbles across the mech.

The microscope yelps in surprise, then pain, as the larger dark blue mech trips over him. A quiet moan of discomfort as the technopath sprawls across the microscope in an undignified heap across the ground.

"Sorry!" The microscope apologizes profusely. "I'm so sorry! I was picking up some data pads that I dropped and-"

Soundwave ignored the rest.

Merely focusing on the inconceivable need - and fiercely questioning

"...It Shouldn't Be This Way." Soundwave finally speaks, whisper-soft, fingers splaying across the glass, capturing the thrumming, pulsing lights of the city skyscrapers.

"What You Want Is Irrelevant In The Senate's Optics." Shockwave argues, stepping forward to stand beside the shorter mech, yellow optic boring into Soundwave's reflection. "The Scientist Is Stationed To Be United With Senator Ratbat, As A Show Of Good Faith And Trust Between The Scientific Community And The Senate. The Resonance That You Feel For This Mech Falls Short Of Their Desires. Your Desires Are Moot."

_"...Why Does It Have To Be This Way?" He asks, cupping the dark cheek, brushing the dermal seam with his fingers._

Perceptor's optics were narrowed, tightened by despair and resolve. His hands lay atop the hand that brushes the corner of his optic leans, catching the trembling leak of coolant fluids. "I don't have a choice..." The last word is a sob, his shoulders shaking, head lowering in shame.

The scientist struggles helplessly for a moment as Soundwave pulls him closer to embrace the mech, but finally falls limp, the glass plating of the techopath's chest humming with every cracking gasp of pain and sorrow.

His fingers leave deep grooves upon the microscope's shoulder struts and shoulder blades, but he can only pull Perceptor tighter, as if his arms would forever be able to hold the scientist close to his Spark.

"...What If We Could Change It?"

Shockwave twists around to peer closer at his counterpart. "Clarify." He demands.

"What If We Could Change The Laws?" Soundwave explains further. "What If The Entire Regime Were To Alter?"

"...Do You Understand What Would Need to Be Done, Then, In Order To Change This?" Soundwave knew that Shockwave shared his views about the current regime...About the corruption and discrimination. Mechs treated no better than organic livestock based on their format and design.

"Are You Willing To Change Everything? No Matter What May Happen To Us All? To Cybertron?" Shockwave inquires.

_He is standing upon a balcony access, surreptitiously observing the two mechs stories below from his position._

From the distance, he can not decipher the words that are currently being exchanged.

He can, however, recognize the stance and form of the microscope standing a full helm and shoulder below in comparison to the Senator's build, the scientist clasping his hands in front of his waist, head lowered, not meeting the Senator's gold optics.

Dark purple fingers catch Perceptor's chin, lifting the mech's face until he can not turn his optics away.

A low, static-guttered primeval growl ripples behind his faceplate, Soundwave silently watching as the Senator tugs the scientist forward to drop a chaste kiss upon the microscope's lips.

He may be standing too far away to decipher their words, but he isn't blind to the offline optics that peek over the edge of the Senator's shoulder, the only means that Perceptor possesses to escape from the mech's affections.

"Tell Me What To Do." Soundwave demands.

* * *

**Honesty  
Surprise!xSurprise!xRed Alert (Threesome!)**  
_Smuttiness!!!!_

Red Alert _knew_, that if the others were to find out about his illicit tryst with the Decepticon, that he would lost more than his position as Security Director. He would lose their respect...their trust...

"Why remain with them, Red?" Astrotrain purrs sibilantly, lips teasing his audio receptors, tracing the words across the red paint as the smaller mech shivers within the bonds of the arms wrapped around his waist. "They don't give you the respect you deserve. They treat you like you're only a malfunctioning glitch. A _nuisance_ rather than a fellow warrior."

Red Alert's denta snag his bottom lip, as he attempts to coax forth some effort to argue against the Decepticon's whispers. But he can't...because...

Because it's not as if what the mech says isn't the truth...

Blitzwing looms along Red Alert's back, hands skimming up and down the door wings, wringing slight flutters from the panels as fingers delve into crevices to trace sensitive wiring. "Come on, Red." The triple-changer hums, pressing closer, until there is no place left for the Autobot to move or twist away from between them. "You remember Shockwave's offer, right? Oooh, he certainly hasn't forgotten about you. The offer still stands, Red." Blitzwing teases the offer in front of the mech, like a carrot in front of an equine animal.

"R-Really?" The hope shivers in his voice.

"Mmmhmm." Astrotrain croons. "It's not a disease, Red. Decepticons don't look at it a glitch in that manner. Rather, we look at your paranoia as a...survival mechanism."

"And what is it that Shockwave desires the most?" Blitzwing follows.

"The survival and victory for the Decepticons." Astrotrain answers.

"The survival and supremacy of Cybertron." Blitzwing adds.

"Soooo...what do you say, Red?" Blitzwing is running his hands up and down the Autobot insignia stenciled across the front of the Autobot's chest.

Astrotrain leans down, lips hovering over the red and white mech's, tasting the vibration of the whimper that escapes the mech as a result of their proximity.

"Want to toss aside that red crest and join the Decepticons?"

* * *

**Home  
StarscreamxPerceptor**  
...I'm starting to think I should have named this one 'Harem', instead. The mechs are dirty, dirty boys.  
_Note: Megatron and Starscream may seem pretty OC, but to me, if the War had gone differently, things could have ended up differently as well..._

"Lord Megatron!" Starscream snaps, following his illustrious leader through down the long aisles of the Slave Pen. "I assure you that I do not require a pet. As kind as your offer is, I am in no need of one!"

"Nonsense." Megatron drones, moving steadily with long, arrogant strides, slavers and slaves hastily moving or diving out of his way. "It's been over a hundred orns since the Decepticons took Cybertron by force, completely wiping out any and all resistance forces. Our regime has gone unchallenged for sixty orns. You are one of the last of my soldiers who has not taken a prize, courtesy of your servitude within my army."

"But I don't want one!" Starscream is not ashamed to not be above whining petulantly like an indignant sparkling.

"Hah!" Megatron nearly guffaws with laughter, as if finding the idea of the Seeker uninterested in a pleasingly attractive mech ridiculous. "If _Shockwave_ is unresisting towards the idea of a pet, than you should show no qualms as well."

"Why waste time on finding me a pet?" Starscream wheedles. "Why don't you find another to add to your assemblage?"

"I already have _three_." Megatron reminds the Seeker, turning around so that a ruby optic meets Starscream's. "And I am currently keeping Optronix suitably entertained while Ratchet and Prowl are midway through the development of their sparklings."

_"Both of them?"_ Starscream is amazed. He's met all three of Megatron's pets on numerous occasions, and not a single one of the tyrant's soldiers are blind or deaf to not notice their leader's obsessive and possessive regard and affections towards his pets. It is not surprising that at least one would be carrying a sparkling, but for two --

Megatron's engine purrs loudly in pleasure at the memory of his two pets, each under heavy guard and scrutiny, both Soundwave and Shockwave keeping close tabs on the two pets. Soundwave and Shockwave — in their own, separate ways — were eager to observe to development and take note of the design of the sparklings upon delivery.

"Keeping Optronix entertained, hmm?" Starscream sneers, tone almost to the point of insolent.

But Megatron does not mind. In fact, he is personally aware of the Seeker's spite.

"Still sore that I acquired him first?" He notes smugly.

Starscream scowls darkly. "You knew I had my sights on him."

"What can I say." Megatron shrugs 'helplessly'. Starscream snorts at the gesture. "I can not resist a beautiful face."

Starscream opens his mouth to deliver a sharp comment, but Megatron interrupts by coming to a complete halt, resulting in the Seeker ramming into his back with a loud startled yelp.

"Ahhh. Here we are." The large silver mech doesn't appear to notice his soldier's stumble, or the use of his form to slow down his momentum. A slaver rushes forward at Megatron's gesture, quickly unlocking the sealed cage that the tyrant stands in front of. The slaver ducks into the room, rushing to coax the hunkered figure out of the cramped room.

Starscream mutters darkly, rubbing the bridge of his nasal ridge, the metal flesh sore from ramming into the mech's back.

"Come, come!" The slaver hurries, tugging the resisting mech from the room. The black and gray slaver easily hauls the smaller red and blue mech out of the dark haven of the room, ignoring the mech's feeble attempts to break free.

"A microscope?" Starscream notes aloud, cataloguing the slave's design.

"I looked at his files." Megatron supplies. "He is very well educated in science and engineering. I thought he would be a valuable asset, especially as a possible future assistant with your projects."

"Hmm." Starscream hates to admit, but he is intrigued by the prospect of actually having a productive, _intelligent_ mech as an aide, rather than a bumbling drone.

Taking note of the Seeker's piqued interest, Megatron gestures sharply for the slaver to step forward to allow the Decepticons a closer look at the smaller slave.

"Don't be so shy!" The slaver hisses at the smaller mech. With a shove, the slaver pushes the mech forward into the full light.

As the mech stumbles, Starscream reacts automatically and catches the mech before they are both sent crashing into a heap upon the ground.

The first thing that Starscream notices about the mech -

Is how _wonderfully_ he fits within the Seeker's arms...

And the dark face that peers up at him in fear, but with a burning fierce kindling distaste that can not be hidden within molten pools of sapphire.

"Hhmmmm." The Seeker purrs in delicious contentment.

The mech trembles noticeably within his arms, but against his wills bends easily within the Seeker's arms as the red, white, and cobalt mech slides against his front, lifting him off his pedes, arms coiling tighter around his waist.

Megatron chuckles in amusement. "You approve, then." It is not a question, but merely a note.

He decides to leave the Seeker to entertain his new pet, while he deals with the haggling slaver, and quite easily convinces the sniveling mech to cut the microscope's price down by over half.

And all it took was one gesture of meaningfully running his left hand along the smooth onyx surface of his fusion cannon mounted upon his right forearm.

* * *

**Host  
Megatron/Optronix**  
_Megatron finds a small treasure among the rubble of a ravaged city decimated by the Decepticon invasion._

"Separate and scour the perimeter." Megatron commands, directing the flow of troopers dropping down from the transport vehicles. "This city has been without energon supply for nearly an entire vorn. There will be little to no resistance from Autobot rebels, and any surviving civilians will be rounded up and transported to the Pen Units."

"Sir!" The troops respond in fervor, forming tight units and beginning their initial sweeps.

"And You, Lord Megatron?" Soundwave inquires, red visor tiled in his leader's direction.

"I will perform my own scans." Megatron answers shortly. Striding away, turning his back towards the Decepticon telepath. "I do not require any guards or assistance."

"Confirmed."

Megatron is swift to leave the temporary base camp, wishing to perform his own survey at his leisure.

Confidently stalking the litter-filled streets and narrow alleyways, red optics coldly study the deadly silent empty buildings, glass windows broken or shining dully as Cybertron's suns set. His footsteps break the heavy silence, shattering the held breath of the tall skyscrapers and overturned aerial vehicles, only remaining witnesses from the panicked city dwellers' terrified flight, many fleeing as the alarm sounded, warning of the Decepticon siege over ten vorns ago.

_'Another city razed from such a long time ago.'_ He continues to walk, calmly scanning as he strides. _'And another abandoned and slowly dying. The entire area will have to be scrapped before my forces can ever hope to begin reconstruction!'_

He comes to a smooth halt, facial plates revealing nothing, but his scans catching the dark form of a mech huddled within the depths of an unlit alleyway, almost successfully hidden behind tall trash receptacles and piles of rusting scrap.

Megatron starts to charge the black cannon, but slowly, not wishing to alert the mech to the inclosing Decepticon. Footsteps tread carefully, making nary a sound as he approaches, prepared to strike and cut the mech's existence short.

His cautious maneuver proves pointless. Surprised, catching sight of the mech entirely, he immediately cuts off the weapon's charge, not needing its assistance.

The smaller red and blue mech is curled up on the ground, tucking into a loose fetal position. Optics stare forward, blackened and blind, at the opposing wall of the alley, fingers curled limp across the dirty ground.

Megatron sighs, annoyed. Another mech, too weak from the extinguished supply of energon, abandoned and left behind to rot with the city. How many more scrap heaps remain such as he?

He is prepared to turn and walk away, but pauses, straining to hear.

Megatron is certain that he just heard a sound from the offlined mech's direction.

He waits, listening intently, and his patience proves true, audio receptors catching the low pitch of internal vitals stuttering, working weakly but fervently to keep the mech from the Matrix's clutches.

And Megatron is there at the fallen mech's side, crouched down, turning the body over for a better look.

The slack form is rolled over easily, face relaxed, reposed inside deep stasis. Ruby and sapphire arms fold within the mech's lap, loose, easily gathered, and moved out of the Decepticon's way.

Shifting the mech, propping his head upon Megatron's knee, the Decepticon reaches into a subcompartment, pulling out an emergency energon liquid ration. "You better be worth the effort." He warns, not anticipating an answer and not receiving one either.

Supporting the blue helm atop one hand, Megatron snaps open the ration's sealed lid, carefully pushing the brim against the seam of the mech's lip components. He allows a few drops to trickle inside, not risking pouring too much energon too fast.

The response is minor, but Megatron detects a small pinpoint of azure light flickering from the center of the mech's optics. Weak trembling light shines, supplying a glimmer of promise.

Shadows rise from the dirty alley floor by the time it takes to deliver the entirety of the energon. The dapple of blue light visible within darkened optics slowly widening, burning brighter until azure shuttered optics blink, focusing on his surroundings. The mech's body shudders, face twisting in confusion, a trembling moan following lip components tasting the energon beads slipping down his throat component.

Blue fingers quake, rising, scrabbling at the cup containing the sweet fluid slipping over glossa. Optics narrow into focus, turning upward, facing towards the silver mech supporting helm and weight.

A curious ignition of pleasure impacts his Spark, a primal sliver purring in pleasure at the confusion, but mingled trust within the optics staring up at his face. Breakable fingers attempt to pull the container closer, the mech mewling in straining pleasure and cracking composure, begging for more of the vital energon igniting his systems and components to life.

"Easy." Megaton orders gruffly, preventing the mech from swallowing too much, and possibly flooding his systems.

Scrabbling fingers immediately halt, the smaller mech naturally responsive to a superior's authority.

This time the purr does escape, lip components trembling to reveal sharp silver fangs. "Good mech." Megatron purrs in delight, rewarding the mech's compliance by allowing a slightly faster flowing stream of energon. Blue optics blink, light fluttering in bliss, in response to the violet elixir.

Megatron decides that this mech will do nicely. He had been considering acquiring a pet...

Yes, this one was worth salvaging.

* * *

**Hacker  
Soundwave/Optimus Prime**  
_Soundwave finds that he is...pleased by the progress made._

Soundwave finds that he is...pleased by the progress made.

Cybertron's ragged resistance can offer no defense against Decepticon forces. Even Alpha Trion's attempts to reinstate a new Prime failed when Soundwave's cassettes acquired the data indicating not only the mech's plans, but his current location and status...as well as where the current Prime was being housed, in preparation for optimization.

It was ridiculously easy to launch a surprise attack upon Alpha Trion's labs, seizing and paralyzing the startled mech while in the middle of his work. He stood no chance against the Decepticons: outnumbered, and outmatched.

Megatron, extremely pleased by the overall success, had no quarrel about leaving Soundwave to handle the stasis Prime, the Decepticon leader too engrossed in dealing out Alpha Trion's fate. "See if our newest Prime can be put to good use, Soundwave." Megatron instructs, while leaving the bunkered lab, following the two soldiers wrestling a resisting Alpha Trion out of the shelter.

"Yes, Lord Megatron." Soundwave bows in command.

As soon as Megatron and all other Decepticons left the lab, Soundwave returns, dark and silent, to stand over the stasised mech. Red optic lens quickly scan the data flooding the computer terminals, pleased to find that the Prime's optimization was near completion, merely awaiting the command to awaken.

It is not difficult to...tweak a few streams of data. Nor does he feel any semblance of guilt at removing chunks of memory files that would impede with Soundwave's future goals for the Prime.

The data pertaining to the resistance and formation of the Autobot forces...Sentinel Prime's deactivation...Optimus Prime's necessary functions as the newest Prime...

None of that was essential.

From this moment, the only information that Optimus Prime would need to acquire, will come from Soundwave.

The entire process of refining and finished optimization takes mere moments. Once satisfied, Soundwave enters the precise protocols, initiating the sequence to awaken Optimus Prime.

Shuttered optics slowly pulse into life, azure warmth pooling into onlining optic lens. Fingertips shudder upon the surface of the berth, in response to the sharp waking process and the dark blue mech leaning over him. "Who..." His voice breaks past the thick metal face plates protecting and shielding the lower section of his mandibles and nasal ridge.

Soundwave hushes the mech by carefully pressing fingertips upon the covered lip components, halting Prime before he attempts to rise. "Do Not Rise Yet. Optimization Has Taken Toll, Leaving You Slightly Weakened. A Moment: Necessary To Regain Focus And Strength."

Optimus Prime acquisizes, form relaxing under the pressure against his face plate. "As you wish."

The Decepticon's red visor and silver face plate masks the fleeting pleasure that sweeps over his visage. "Very Good." He marks his approval of the mech's compliance, leaning down and using his other hand to encase the side of Optimus Prime's face, brushing dark blue fingers against widening blue optics. "Now Listen Very Carefully, Optimus. This Is What I Am Expecting Of You..." He murmurs low, invoking his commands with patient whispers.

* * *

**Hostage  
Shockwave/Perceptor**  
_...Finally the sequel to my Ramjet/Perceptor drabble 'Alone Together'._

"I insist that you let me go this instant! This-this is kidnapping and extortion! You have no right—"

Shockwave's audios noted the mech's presence before he even entered the room.

Or more accurately, was carted into the room by a sardonically pleased Ramjet, the microscope struggling balefully within the Decepticon's grip, wrists captured within the mech's single hand.

"Found your precious cargo, Shockwave." The Conehead tossed the microscope in Shockwave's general direction. Perceptor stumbled from the sudden motion of being thrown forward, falling upon his hands and knees before the large Decepticon scientist.

"Designation: Perceptor?" Shockwave inquired coldly, seizing the red and cobalt mech by his throat, easily swinging the microscope onto his feet.

"Ggghhk!" Perceptor struggled to speak, vents heating with exertion. His face twisted tight in discomfort from the firm grip, and due to the looming presence of the large lavender Decepticon, shrinking beneath the focus of the single gold optic.

"Don't break him after all the effort I went to snatch him." Ramjet muttered sourly.

Shockwave ignores the Conehead's almost...fretful...and bothersome vocals, directing his focus upon his new guest. Ramjet is as ill tempered as a mecha-snake as a result of being casually ignored, but knows better than to test Shockwave's wrath, especially when the scientist is so deeply focused on one of his newest projects.

Dismissing the subordinate Decepticon with a distinct lack of command or gesture, Shockwave strides towards an adjacent room, not losing his step and nor does his arm weaken as he tugs his unwilling companion alongside.

Perceptor gasps as he is masterfully maneuvered and pressed into an upright metal slab that acts as a horizontal research table and medical berth during its other necessary uses.

But for now, the restraints prove their metal and worth, and the microscope begins struggling too late after Shockwave has efficiently snapped the cold metal bonds over his wrists, helm, waist, and ankles.

"What are you doing..." Perceptor shakes in fear while the Decepticon ignores his whimpers, instead turning to key in several computer sequences. The microscope jerks as the metal slab against his back rumbles, slowly lowering into a horizontal position, the metal band haloing his forehead preventing him from turning and observing what was laying upon the metal gurney that the Decepticon has already pushed alongside the berth.

"Instruction: Relax. Your Efforts And Struggles Are Useless." Shockwave is shifting among the various instruments upon the second table, optic scanning the tools while he discerns their immediate use, and discards others as unneeded.

"Please...I don't know what you want...Why are you doing this?" His chest is hitching with every inquiry, blue optics scrabbling across the surface of the ceiling above that is within his limited range of sight. As if he will manage to constitute an escape attempt or the uneven metalwork of the ceiling hides a complicated code divulging a method to send out a signal to demand Security's aid.

"Your Presence And Skills Are Necessary. For The Glory And Goal of Lord Megatron." Shockwave finally informs the bound mech. "Since You Were...Hesitant To Accept Ramjet's Greeting And Offer, I Am Taking Means To Ensure That You Will Be Compliant To Your Superiors' Commands, As Well As Complacent While Under The Constructicons' Guard And Tutelage."

"W-what. But-but I'm a s-student, i-in a neutral city! And I-I'm not involved i-in the...the War."

"Silence." Shockwave commands, turning away from the smaller table, the necessary primary tool in hand. The small, deceptively helpless looking red data pad connects to a gold cable and silver jack. The microscope, catching sight of the instrument in the periphery of his vision, begins pleading ineffectively to be set free.

The mech is all too aware of the dangers of the small, highly illegal instrument that the Decepticon holds in his hand.

_"Noooo..."_ Perceptor whimpers under the cool precision and deep interest as Shockwave carefully and expertly slides the end piece along the seams of his neck, finding the exact port, and then plunging the sharp slivered jack into the concealed depression. The microscope winces, bucking futilely within the metal bonds.

"Do Not Resist." Shockwave insists, observing with interest the data streaming across the bright blue screen of the data pad. He slides a finger across the screen, highlighting a thread of numbers and symbols in red. "It Will Make The Process Less Uncomfortable For You."

The Decepticon's words prove unnecessary. Perceptor's body has already fallen slack beneath its bonds, optics shuttered and dulled to pale ivory, frame and CPU defenseless against the invasion and slow creeping virus that Shockwave is sending into his systems. All the while manipulating the microscope's own firewall data and security mainframe to prevent Perceptor's from proving any and all resistance.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Perceptor Drabbles  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.

Rating: G all the way to Mature.

Summary: Short drabbles ranging from G to Mature. Be warned. Slash between two mechs (Maybe even three mechs). Takes place in various universes. None of these drabbles are are meant to be in consecutive order.

**Perceptor and Drift – All Hail Megatron Universe**

"Oh my. The girth…and it's so **long**."

Springer nearly gave himself whiplash whipping around at the awe in Perceptor's voice.

He, Blaster, and Blurr spend the next few breems practically laughing their afts off at the embarrassed and vexed expression upon the microscope's face, Kup allowing a short huff of laughter as the sharpshooter whines, "I was talking about his sword!"

Drift does not help matters, lips merely twitching in a smug smirk, one hand upon his sheathed weapon.

**Perceptor and Rodimus Prime – G2 Universe**

"Help. Help. Oh, please, someone. Assistance.."

Rodimus Prime sighed, shaking his helm as he carefully traced his way towards the flailing scientist, the mech slowly beginning to sink down within the warm maw of a bubbling tar pit.

Trust Perceptor to find the only organic hazardous tar pit upon the entire planet.

**Perceptor and Beachcomber – G1 Universe**

"It's horrible! It's disgusting! Keep it away!"

"Perceptor!" Beachcomber couldn't believe how the scientist yipped and squeaked, the mech clambering up a tall ridge of weathered stones upon the beach, "It's just an eel-"

"It is slippery! And wet and _ooooh _it'll wriggle between your plating and burrow inside and--" Seaspray attempted to coax the scientist off his perch while Beachcomber turned back towards the surf, releasing the slender creature back into the ocean after it had gotten caught in the tide.

**Perceptor and Springer – G2 Universe**

"Here, Springer. Drink this…"

The triple-changer groaned, shakily accepting the cube of energon from the scientist. Perceptor rained soothing kisses upon the mech's heated forehead, the green Autobot curled against the microscope's side.

Perceptor coaxed his partner to continue and finish his cube, rubbing away the stray droplets of lubricants that adorned the mech's forehead.

"I hate viruses…" Springer burrowed deeper into the mech's welcoming arms, dropping the empty cube onto the ground. Perceptor quietly accepting Springer's bulk and weight, laying back onto the berth and soothing the groaning mech by running dark hands up and down his helm and back.

**Perceptor and Unicron – TF Animated Movie Universe**

He stumbled back, away from the avatar. The other mech looming over him, "N-no. Stay away… I won't return to you…"

'_You were my first…my __**greatest**__ creation.' _Unicron's voice is a sigh and the clap of thunder rolled together, filling his head. Perceptor shields his optics from the mech that had created him, turning away as if he feared he would burn to ash because of looking upon him.

'_You fled from me. And you ran into the arms of __**Primus**__.' _Unicron sneered his brother's name, large hands reaching and clasping the microscope's wrists. Effortlessly tugging the mech's hands away from his face.

"No, don't…"

'_You've run so far. For so long.' _Above them, high in the heavens, looming above the small planet, Unicron's true form hovered. Maw open, golden pincers outstretched to embrace the orbiting world that he would soon devour, sating his hunger.

Unicron's avatar _breathed_, lips brushing confidently against the arch of Perceptor proboscis ridge, the red and blue mech's eyebrows fluttering helpless at the warm breath that their lips shared. White lips tickling gray. _'It's time to return to me, Perceptor,' _His master wrapped golden arms around him, pulling the slimmer mech flush against his frame, while the tiny, multi-armed organic inhabitants of the small purple planet bleated and shrieked in alarm as the massive Transformer loomed closer, jagged mouth opening wider to devour their planetary home.

**Perceptor and Drift – All Hail Megatron Universe**

Drift pulled and tugged Perceptor as close as he could, the sniper deep within recharge, whimpering as the other Autobot's hands unintentionally brushed the metal plates dressing his wounds.

Drift softly shushes the mech's weak cries, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

Primus, how could he have let it happen…

_The Swarm proved to be smarter than they looked._

_Drift, busy with slashing them apart, separating their heads from their shoulders, didn't realize that several had circled his position, coming upon the sniper before Perceptor realized he was being ambushed._

_Drift would never forget the sharp, agonizing screams as the Swarm fell upon the sniper. Perceptor helplessly scrabbling for his gun, while one of the massive mechs tore and bit into his forearm, another gnashing its fangs into the plating above his hip. Energon and wires peeking between the cannibalistic creatures as Drift roared in fury, tearing across the uneven landscape and pouncing upon the sniper's assailants._

Hot Rod and Blaster did the best that they could with their minimal amount of supplies and sedatives. Drift refusing any further help, even from their leader Kup. Pulling the weak, recharging mech into the farthest corner of the building their small unit huddled within for cover and refuge ― hoping to gain a few joors of uninterrupted recharge ― Drift snarling at their feeble attempts to reason with him.

Kup finally sent the others away, allowing Drift and Perceptor to remain seated together, leaning into one another. The white mech literally trying to wrap himself around the sniper, arms and legs bracketing the red and blue mech tightly against his chassis.

"I'm sorry." Drift whispered, burying his mouth into the crook of Perceptor's neck.

It may have been in imagination, but he thought he felt the weaker squeeze of dark fingers upon his clenched hands.

**Perceptor and Swindle – G1 Universe**

**(I blame SBX's fic on for this idea)**

"……" Onslaught glared at the other Combaticon, shifting his fierce stare upon the mech slung over the gold and purple mech's shoulder.

Perceptor hung sullenly over Swindle's shoulder, hands locked together by stasis cuffs. Matching Onslaught's scowl with one equally fierce and scorching.

"So how about it?" Swindle grinned at his leader, smugly patting one hand on his captive's posterior. Prompting a hasty, lengthy sputtering of insults and threats from the bound Autobot, "Can we keep him?"

**Perceptor and Hot Rod – Shattered Universe**

Perceptor purred as his mate slid between his spread limbs, thighs squeezing around the Autobot's waist, hands cupping the larger mech's shoulders, cooing an artfully fake cry for mercy "Oh please, don't, please don't hurt me…" The scientist nipped at Hot Rod's throat, inciting a breathy chuckle and startled gasp, the mech's hands digging into his hips.

"Stop squirming." Hot Rod commanded, pushing the mech flat onto his back.

Perceptor arched like a cat, flexing his arms up to curve beside his helm. Red optics gleaming up at the other. He flicked his glossa out to trace his lips, thrusting and whimpering as he rubbed his codpiece against the other Autobot's.

"Slut." Hot Rod snarled, grabbing the mech's knees, spilling him further onto his back, arching his captured legs until they nearly hang over his shoulders.

"All yours." Perceptor whimpers, and then suddenly crying out shrilly as Hot Rod's interface cord snaps into his port, several thinner interface cables slithering forward and probing other nearby ports within the seam of the scientist's thighs and cod piece.

"_Mine." _Hot Rod smashed their lips together, suckling every sharp aching cry as the scientist jolts, twisting within his arms, mewling and digging curling fingers into his shoulders and biceps.

Oh yes, it had certainly been worth punching a hole into Springer's chassis and sending the Autobot into Ratchet's 'tender' hands in order to win rights to 'face with the slimmer scientist.

**Perceptor and Kup – G2 Universe**

Perceptor squeezes his arms tighter around the veteran's neck, helm pressed against Kup's shoulder. "…sorry, Kkkup.." The scientist's speech slurs, no doubt his CPU rattled by the harsh blow he'd received from the shot fired by Galvatron, a smooth dent dressing his temple, chassis and arms scorched black in places where the heat of the weapon fire had come dangerously close.

Kup shifted the mech on his back into a more comfortable sling across his back, arms squeezing the legs wrapped around his waist, murmuring to the scientist that he was carrying piggyback, "Not yer fault, kid." The older mech's pace is slow, but determined, keeping his head low, skirting any possibly sentries patrolling the area, making his way towards a small Autobot unit several kliks to the south. Hopefully, they would have a working radio to summon a medic, and get the soldier in contact with either Ultra Magnus or Rodimus Prime to warn them that Galvatron and his ilk were on the same planet as their scouting party.

**Perceptor and Optimus Prime – Shattered Universe**

"A-as you have requested, my Lord, the weapon's output has b-been increased by over 22%, with a recovery t-time of only two seconds rather than six--"

The scientist's stuttered speech falls on deaf audios, the Prime running a hand appreciatively over the sleek silver and gold weapon midway through reconstruction.

Standing with his back to another work table, Perceptor keeps his azure optics staring down upon the floor, fingers twisting together nervously, continuing his analysis, "The fusion technology is still in the earlier stages, b-but it won't be long b-before I can apply it to your p-personal arsenal―"

"Impressive." Optimus Prime interrupts his subordinate's tremble of words. Turning away from the cluttered worktable and the weapon placed on display for his perusal, the gray, red, and blue mech awaiting his Lord's approval, "Your reputation proves true. I am pleased with your work."

Hopeful blue optics momentarily lift up from the floor, Perceptor carefully beseeching the Prime, "T-thank you, my Lord." The scientist's pede shifts as he twitters and speaks haltingly, "D-does this mean that I may speak with S-Sound-"

"Unfortunately I do not find that your work credits a short chat with your _mate_," The Prime sneers, looming over the scientist, forcing Perceptor to shudder and back into his work table, fingers kneading into the smooth metal as the Autobot leader antagonizes the shivering mech, "Nor will I allow you outside these labs or your private quarters until I am suitable encouraged by your projects' improvements."

"B-but you promised―"

"Oh **no**…" The Prime traces his fingers down the smooth chin, cupping the arched chin, butting his battle mask against the soft plating, inciting a frightened mewl from the scientist. He idly pats the mech's cheek, as if soothing a contrite pet, "No, no, no, how could I possibly entertain the **idea** of letting my _precious_ scientist out of my sight when you are so important to me and my army?"

Lubricants tease the corner of wide blue optics, the scientist's vents hitching as he covers his mouth with both hands, trembling, aggrieved as the Prime finally steps away.

Prime leaves the room as Perceptor slowly sinks to his knees, sobbing quietly into his hands, the door of his gilded cage sealing shut, guarded by one of the Prime's most trusted guard. The scientist whimpering for his mate,_ "Soundwave..."_. Beads of lubricant dotting the floor between his folded legs.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: DrabblesSticky  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.

Rating: G all the way to Mature. STICKY.

Summary: Short drabbles ranging from G to Mature. Be warned. Slash between two mechs (Maybe even three mechs). Takes place in various universes. None of these drabbles are are meant to be in consecutive order.

**Hot Rod and Perceptor – IDW Universe**

"Wait." Perceptor caresses the younger mech's face with applause-worthy steady hands, fingertips tracing the mech's features. The microscope whimpering softly as Hot Rod pauses his pelvic rotations, stilling as soon as the words escaped the red and teal Autobot's lips.

"…Am I…doing something wrong?" Hot Rod's vents are turned on, fans whirring to cycle cooling air throughout his systems. Leaning between Perceptor's thighs, forearms bracketing both sides of the microscope's helm, the scientist's scope removed earlier and placed reverently upon the cluttered desk earlier that night cycle to avoid being sent crashing to the ground as a result of Hot Rod's amorous pounce upon the Autobot scientist as soon as he had stepped into their quarters.

Perceptor shakes his head in denial, trying to sooth the red and gold mech's worry, leading Hot Rod down for a long, thorough kiss, sighing into the younger mech's mouth as the motion of Hot Rod leaning forward causes the mech's cord to push deeper, filling him to the brim.

"Mmmm-" Hot Rod moans softly, diving into the kiss with vigor. Hips unconsciously striking a stucco of several rapid thrusts before he can contain himself.

Perceptor fares no better. Arching and meeting his partner's thrusts with avid enthusiasm. The scientist's breath shuddering when his optics relay the sight of Hot Rod's cord stretched between them, before sinking into the tight bundle and depths of his port and valve.

"Y-You need to slow down.." Perceptor whispers haltingly. Separating with a wet pop, their lips traced with clear lubricant, the microscope smiling sheepishly, "Keep this up, and you'll having me overloading in no time."

Hot Rod grins cheekily. "Kind of the point," At Perceptor's incredulous blink of confused azure optics, the younger Autobot pumps his hips forward, causing Perceptor to cling onto him, the scientist crying out sharply, arms digging into his shoulders and neck as he clings onto Hod Rod, "'Cause both of us have tomorrow off-duty, and I don't plan on either of us getting off this berth or leaving this berth for the next solar cycle."

**Megatron and Prowl – Megatron Origin Universe**

Prowl twisted and tugged within the hands surrounding his wrists, his arms hanging above his helm, the Security officer shoved across a rough tumble of metal boxes. His doorwings flexed with agitation, pulsing with each piston of the mech behind him, the large silver gladiator shoving his cord inside the pinned, smaller winged mech.

"What did you hope to accomplish by staking out this territory, hmm?" The large gladiator wondered, one hand stretching forward and trapped Prowl's helm against the edge of the large crate, the Security mech grimacing as his red chevron screeched a red groove across the paint.

"Tell me," Megatron whispered sibilantly into his audio receptor, looming and sliding across the smaller mech's back, earning a weak cry of displeasure as the heavy bulk pressed down upon his wings, "I have been gentle, haven't I? All you need to do is tell me who sent you."

Prowl ground his denta until he clearly hears a crack, mortified by the trickle of lubricants slithering down his thighs, both legs shoved apart, the pale lavender fluid slicking the gladiator's thrusts, coiling between their clacking and bumping plating, "N-Never…" Prowl snarls, gasping from a particularly hard thrust, condensation leaking around his lips to speckle the crate's surface. His wrists bound hard and tight against the small of his back.

"Pity," The larger mech sounds anything but sorry, "Then I'll simply need to distract myself with your company, since your presence has sent my Constructicons darting for the nearest dark caverns at the very whisper of Security."

**Sentinel Prime and Prowl – Megatron Origin Universe**

"I hate this…I hate.._hate_.." Prowl slaps a hand over his gibbering mouth, muffling his twist of mewls and growls of displeasure.

Sentinel Prime smirks, lapping idly across the surface of the winged mech's interface relay. Prowl stretched upon the Prime's desk like a mid-day energon snack, the larger gold and red mech spilling Prowl over the surface when his assistant had ventured into the office to deliver another stack of datapads and mission reports.

Prowl's thighs tremble, folded over the Prime's shoulders, the larger mech's girth forcing the smaller mech's legs to spread open wide to accommodate. The black and white assistant's dermal plating flushes with an undercurrent of energon as he is splayed upon the edge of the desk, while Sentinel Prime insists on slowly feasting upon him, never mind the other assistants and personnel scurrying throughout the building, on the other side of the office door!

"Quiet." Sentinel Prime accompanies his stern warning by thrusting two fingers beyond the rim of his assistant's port, earning a sharp, but successfully muffled howl of indignant surprise from Prowl, "You don't want anyone to hear, do you?"

His hand lowering momentarily to glare at his superior, Prowl stutters a nasty curse, that makes Sentinel Prime arch his optical ridge in surprise.

"My, such a filthy words to ever escape from your lips," He tsks, "We will have to do something about that, won't we?"

"You bast-" The back of Prowl's helm smacks against the desk, data pads pushing sharp needle points of pain as they dig into his wings, the black and white mech voicing a soundless scream as Sentinel Prime reproaching his seething assistant, by thrusting his glossa into the mech's port, slithering alongside the two fingers pumping and curling into his valve.

**Soundwave and Perceptor – Megatron Origin Universe**

"You shouldn't be here! Only s-students are allowed." The microscope yips with alarm when his partner tugs him out of his seat and away from his unfinished project, yellow optical band humming in the dimly lit room with the warm malevolence of a lone sun within a circling galaxy. "Not here." Perceptor pleads, his partner scooping him off his pedes, pressing him against the wall of his labs inside the Science Academy.

"Your arguments: unsatisfactory." Soundwave nuzzles his masked face into Perceptor's neck, hands clenching upon the young scientist's posterior, propping him against the wall while he smoothly coaxes the microscope to thread his legs around the sapphire blue mech's waist.

"The other students!" Perceptor glances in mortification and a daring , but steadfastly ignored thrill of pleasure towards the door of the labs, his sensory net on hyper-alert, keying into every sound that falls like a tapping pede, or the murmur of voices from students rushing to settle inside a vacant lab in order to begin work on their own projects.

"Your company: desirable." Soundwave's hand impatiently pulses and drags upon the cod piece over his interface array. Perceptor whines, the fronts of their chassis grinding with friction as they arch together, the young scientist fumbling and struggling with Soundwave's cod piece.

"Oh!" Both mechs shudder when their cod pieces snap free, clattering to the floor in between their pedes. Soundwave rocking forward as soon as their interface relays are laid bare, his thrust pushing his tensed cord partway into his partner before he can halt the motion. Perceptor's hands drag down his shoulders, the microscope riding the second thrust that combines them together as one unit.

Joors afterwards, they managed to avoid an embarrassing scenario of discovery, having not been revealed by any students or instructors in need of the labs.

Sprawled across the floor, Perceptor can't contain a short spell of laughter at the ridiculousness of their position, tangled and tumbled together like two younglings after a long cycle of tussling and play.

He sits up and retrieves their cod pieces, avoiding a slow swipe from his partner when he snaps his on, then Soundwave's, avoiding a precursor warning that the mech is not lacking in his desire to couple again, and Perceptor smiles knowingly, while avoiding another, quicker grab from the replete mech.

Soundwave growls with reproach, managing to snag his giggling partner, dragging Perceptor closer, curling his arms around his smaller partner.

Regaining their strength, vents still churning fresh gusts of atmosphere, Perceptor rests his helm upon Soundwave's chassis, one leg looped over his.

"You've been away for long periods of time." Perceptor murmurs softly, pressing his cheek above Soundwave's Spark. One of the other mech's hands sliding up and down the scientist's back strut, battle mask retracted, to allow for the larger mech to lay a brief kiss to the top of Perceptor's helm as they lay together.

"Several projects under construction." Soundwave informs him, again giving Perceptor far too little detail.

Perceptor hates needling his partner, but he can't help but to be concerned. "Is Senator Ratbat keeping you after joors?" He attempts to acquire further details.

"Depends on the project." Is all that he is provided.

Perceptor sighs in defeat, optics dimming with the heavy silence that hangs in the air. Weary of the silences that have begun to stretch more frequently between the two mechs during the last vorn. The young scientist already growing unsettled by the increasing news reports warning of underground fights, and clustered skirmishes with Security. The rogue groups of mechs causing great concern to the instructors and students, many creators pulling their charges out of the Academy in fear of the fights breaking out near or on campus.

"Promise me that you are completely safe." It is the only thing that he can ask from his partner for the moment. The assurance that Soundwave is not in danger, far away from these skirmishes, will settle his thumping Spark greatly.

"Always."

Perceptor nestles into Soundwave's embrace, burying his face into the crook of the mech's neck. Trying to ignore the flutter of discontent that persists is gnawing at his Spark, poisoning his recharge and leaving him awake during many a night cycle while he fears for his partner's safety.

Terrified that their bond would soon be tested as the violence escalated and Soundwave's excursions and long disappearances increased.

'_I fear for you.'_ Perceptor privately worries, CPU flooded with a variety of horrific scenarios and uncertainties, _'I fear what may become of all of this.'_

Soundwave's arms tighten around him, as if his partner senses his turmoil.

The scientist hopes that they will remain together, as rock steady as Soundwave's embrace, during the coming orns.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Drabbles  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.

Rating: G all the way to Mature.

Summary: Short drabbles ranging from G to Mature. Be warned. Slash between two mechs (Maybe even three mechs). Takes place in various universes. None of these drabbles are meant to be in consecutive order.

**Perceptor and Hot Rod – Shattered Universe**

The thrust of the portal hurled him forward, head over pedes, the scientist flopping onto his belly as he is thrown through the wide open maw of the nova-white portal.

Perceptor, his equilibrium bearings rattling askew, teeters as he pushes onto his knees. Optics blinking in dazed confusion, peering over his shoulder and catching a fleeting glimpse of the portal flickering, blinking in a ghostly reflection before the bright, churning blue and white void died. The portal entrance imploding, swallowing the gate and disappearing with a final, breathy sigh of wind marking its departure.

"O…Ouch." Perceptor cups his aching helm, grit and dust caking onto his plating, "What just…happened?"

His gaze shifts, and he realizes that…something is wrong.

"Where am I?"

The landscape is a maze of tall towers of twisted metal and garbage, skyscrapers of decaying structures, the ground littered with traps of hidden metal beams and sharp, jagged shards. Gently he pushes onto his pedes, avoiding slicing the palms of his hands open, delicately stepping around the worst and sharpest debris.

"R-Ratchet?" His voice trembles, the microscope glancing towards the horizon. A marble of white marks the moon, lit by the tall teeth of tall skyscrapers in the far distance. "Wheeljack?._..Someone_!" He cries, rattled and confused, the familiar glow of the moon making his fuel tank twist with dismay.

'_It can't be…if that is the Xelion moon…then I'm..I'm on Cybertron.'_

But…that was impossible! Cybertron _never_ looked like this. The Decepticon Guardian Shockwave would be sickened by such decay, even on a war-torn planet. Further, it was impossible for him to be on Cybertron without the use of a Space Bridge.

"This is a hallucination." He surmises. Clearly he has rattled his CPU during a fall or injury. Yes…That would explain everything.

A shadow detaches from a nearby, leaning skyscraper.

Perceptor steps away, "Who's there?" He demands.

The mech steps forward. The face and manner in which he carries himself is immediately familiar, even though the fiery red and gold paintwork has been switched with a leering lavender shade and oily black.

"H-Hot Rod!" Perceptor's tensed shoulders droop with immediate relief, "I'm so glad to see a familiar face!"

The mech smirks in greeting, and Perceptor's delight in tinged with discomfort, the leering ruby optical glass and the stark outline black facial markings curling around the mech's silver lips, "Well, I'm embarrassed. You know my name, but I don't recall ever laying optics on you before."

Perceptor's discomfort settled like a lead weight in his fuel tank. He immediately takes a step back, and the other mech follows.

"Hard to forget such a sweet face," Hot Rod smirks, crowding closer, until Perceptor winces when his back strut bumps against a narrowly standing skyscraper of metal debris and trash. The microscope gasps in fright when the taller mech pinches his chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting the smaller scientist's face, nudging his head to the left and right, carefully inspecting Perceptor's pinched features and wide terrified optics, "What's the matter…am I_ scaring_ you?"

"You're not Hot Rod." Perceptor winces, unsuccessful in trying to twist his face away, "Not the Hot Rod whom I know."

The doppelganger chuckles, "Maybe." The mech smiles darkly, "But I bet that I'm more than enough to entertain the both of us while you come to terms with your startling revelation."

Perceptor does not flinch from him ― nor does he reciprocate ― when the dark mech presses a cool, dry kiss to his lips. The scientist's optics pitch black, retreating in any measure possible as the mech laughs deeply at the smaller mech's low keen of dismay.

**Optimus Prime and Megatron - 2009 Universe**

Such devotion to protect the organic insect.

Megatron snarls, clenching his curled talons across Optimus' shoulder. Thrusting the bladed axe of his forearm through the Prime's back, and through his chest.

Optimus Prime gasps, helm arching, hands scrabbling at the looped, thick arm across his chassis. Binding his brother against his back strut.

"Why him?" Megatron demands, snarling the hissed words into Optimus' audios. Thrusting the blade in deeper, earning a sharp, static cry of agony. "_What makes this boy worth protecting_?"

"_**Gggggkk-" **_Optimus gurgles, energon bubbling between silver lips. Not too far away, Sam screams in horror and agony as Megatron's blade pierces the grand, tall figure of the Prime,_ "Optimus!!"_

"S-Saaaamm.." Optimus' knees and joints collapse, only Megatron's curled grip keeping him upright.

Megatron glares hatefully in the direction of the tiny human. Whispering into the Prime's audio, "I would have carved a throne for you. Rebuilt an empire at your feet," He snarls, clinging to his brother, wincing at the weak cry that his blade induces as it drags along sheared internal components, "but still you look to the boy. Never looking once at me!"

He can sense when Optimus' systems began to shut down, beginning to immediately lock down into emergency stasis. His brother's form slackening against his chassis.

"I won't share you with him, my brother." Megatron now releases the Prime, ripping the blade free. Watch the slow descent as Optimus collapses to his knees, slowly, inescapably falling onto his side, optics a dull pinprick of a star.

"I'll send you to the Matrix before I let an insect claim your devotion."

**Prowl and Jazz – G1 Universe**

"Jazz," Prowl sighs, the datapad determinedly clenched in one hand, the SIC frowning in disapproval, but not turning away or physically rebuking his mate's smooth, quick pecks upon his cheek and forehead, the saboteur's teasing kisses just fall shy of his lips, "I am trying to finish reading this report."

Jazz hums with amusement, unsuccessful in once again snagging the datapad from the other black and white mech's hand. Straddling his partner, and deftly pushing Prowl down to lay length-wise upon the berth, onto his back while mindful of the mech's sensitive doorwings, "Come oonnnnn, Prowler. I'm feeling a bit frisky." He purrs, kneading and rubbing his hands up and down Prowl's chassis, smoothing his fingertips around the rim of the two headlights.

Prowl shudders, but Jazz pouts when the SIC still refuses to release the datapad. "J-Jazz…" Prowl moans softly, words stifled when Jazz darts forward, sealing their lips together. Rocking against his mate, sliding professionally between Prowl's thighs, the saboteur's engines roaring with a pleased snarl as the black and white mech complies, spreading his legs and sliding his thigh up Jazz's waist.

Jazz manages not to crow with victory when Prowl lets the datapad slip from his fingers, the SIC weaving his arms around Jazz's shoulders and neck, diving into the kiss with greater vigor.

**Perceptor and Starscream – 2007 Universe**

"Perceptor? The Seeker's summons rings throughout the crystal garden. "Where are you, my Pet?"

Perceptor's helm twitches, turning in the direction of the Seeker's summons. Revealing his position tucked within the maze of crystal structures and spires, his seat nestled between one of the taller pairs of crystal towers tucked within the private garden.

"Ahh. There you are." Starscream steps around a cluster of pale silver, humming crystals. The Seeker smiling toothily when Perceptor hopped onto his pedes, stepping forward to meet his master.

"Starscream…" Perceptor's optics flicker in deference and a thrill of pleasure as he slides his hands up the mech's forearm and wrist when the new Decepticon Lord slips an arm forward, brushing the smooth bump of his knuckle joints across Perceptor's cheek and jaw, tracing down his throat, affectionately purring and nuzzling the smaller mech when he bent down closer to the microscope.

"I have a present for you." Starscream reaches for his subspace compartment with his other hand, managing to tug Perceptor closer, pressing the mech against his frame while he rummages for the trinket he wishes to bestow upon his pet.

"…A gift?" Perceptor tilts his head, shyly watching as the Seeker releases a sound of confirmation when he discovers his tucked away prize, tugging it from subspace.

Perceptor chirps with surprise, catching himself before he reaches for the shiny, silver bracelet of etched glyphs and polished ivory bands.

Starscream chuckles, approving of his pet's interest. Teasing the mech by holding the gift just beyond Perceptor's reach, his pet's hands clenching and unclenching helplessly at his sides, "I alluded to how pleasant a collar would look upon you, but instead I decided that this would appeal to me much more." He tilted the bracelet between two clawed fingertips, allowing the high sun overhead to wax a wash of gold across the silver metal.

Perceptor trembled with awed reverence as the Seeker took his hand, bowing over the microscope's wrist, unlatching the bracelet to slide it over Perceptor's thinner appendage, deftly snapping the bracelet upon the smaller cobalt and red wrist.

His hand still curled within Starscream's hand, Perceptor marveled at the gleam of silver, the glyphs glittering against the waxed paintwork of his wrist and forearm. The microscope still too stunned to voice his amazement at his master's audaciousness and want to reconfirm Perceptor as his own. Affirming their bond as more than simply master and servant, marking them as much as equals as one could hope to be when bound to a Decepticon owner.

"Perfection…" Starscream's lips twitch into a snarl of a smile, grinning leer marking his pleasure. He curls around his pet, concealing him from sight within his embrace, butting his mouth against Perceptor's, "This pleases me." He can't stop himself from touching and caressing the bracelet, as if to check and ascertain that it still remains, tracing the glyphs of his designation and Perceptor's woven throughout the length of the silver band.

"…thank you, Starscream." Perceptor sighs into the next kiss that Starscream presses to his forehead. The microscope still growing accustomed to his position as the Decepticon Lord's one and favored pet. But he is finding that the frequent gestures that his master endeavors to press upon him, the measures to reaffirm their bond, is strangely satisfying and accomplishes much in slowly relieving the microscope of his trace amounts of regret for his captivity.

He hopes to remember this flicker of contentment the next time he must witness another caravan of prisoners being dragged onto the auction block while the Decepticon Lord and his small party of confidants look on from their raised dais, Starscream perched upon his throne, a taloned hand idly tracing and massaging his pet's shivering back, Perceptor curled against his chassis, trying to stifle the roar of laughter and taunts from the assembly of soldiers and officers while the prisoners far below them scream and curse the Decepticon crowd heckling prices over the newest prisoners.

**Soundwave and Red Alert – 2009 Universe**

**(I'm basing Soundwave's appearance off the images from the comics for this drabble)**

"-mmmmhhh…" Red Alert's neck could barely hold his helm straight, his chin lolling across his chest and shoulder.

Strong hands grasp his helm, coaxing the mech to twist his expression upward.

"_Look at me." _

"N-noooo.."

Soundwave's ruby visor flickers, narrowing in disapproval. Sliding closer, he ignores Red Alert's wince and spasm as their chassis' bump, the intimate contact cancelled by the slithering, silver hiss of Soundwave's tentacles snaking throughout his chassis and up and down his limbs.

Red Alert's vents heave with exertion, helm falling back. Wincing as Soundwave tucks his chin against the Autobot's throat, the Decepticon snarling underneath the breath of his vents, twisting his arms around the leaner white and red painted prisoner.

"_Do not deny me."_ The technopath whispers seductively, tempting the mech to surrender. Soundwave continuing to bombard Red Alert's firewalls, lusting to crumble and rend the massive barrier apart.

No other mech has ever defied him so greatly. This Autobot's security systems ― his rudimentary virus protection systems and firewalls ― the most immovable opponent he has ever had to deal with, next to that persistent thorn in his side, the Autobot known as Blaster.

The back of Red Alert's head cracks against the filthy wall of the cell, the Autobot flailing as once again Soundwave's uploaded viruses and roving tentacles brush his systems, little biting fangs nipping and tearing at the seams of his firewalls.

Soundwave clings to his prey as the mech howls in agony, their chassis arching together as one unit.

'_Inferno…' _Red Alert's CPU whimpers for the comforting warm voice of his friend.

Soundwave snags that fleeting thought. _"Inferno." _He hisses the name, spitting the designation as if it were something abhorrently foul, _"Every time I come to you, you still cry out for that wretched creature."_

Soundwave catches those slapping, clawing hands, snagging Red Alert's wrists and holding them prisoner. Ignoring the sting of Red Alert's hands clawing at his face, the technopath forces the Autobot to press the palms of his hands against the sharp lines of the Decepticon's cheeks.

Red Alert gasps, shaking his helm left and right in refusal.

He grinds Red Alert's wrists, catching the answering squeal of taut tendons and cables.

"_**Look. At. Me!" **_

This time, for the first time in several joors, the Autobot complies. Out of surprise and fear.

Their optics meet…

And that is when Soundwave pounces. Launching the file that would ensure the Autobot's compliance.

The virus is a battling ram against the wall of Red Alert's fire wall. With a near audible groan, the walls tumble, the castle crumbling to its knees, under seige as the invader overwhelms its foundation.

Red Alert whimpers, mouth slack with an expression of surprise, no words escaping except for a low staticy whine of misery before stutters and fades into oblivion.

Soundwave is swift to curl and wind his influence, weaving it like a net, optical band locked with the stunned, wide blue optics. A hum follows the connection as it seals them together, the hymn of uploading data and constricting tentacles melding into a twisting song.

Red Alert's hands peter out in their endeavor to claw out his optics and rend his facial plating to shreds, losing the will to claw and bleed Soundwave's face. Slack within his grip, Red Alert slumps against the wall, optics fading into a milky white.

This time he does not resist when Soundwave once again slips closer, coaxing and running his hands along the taut lines of the Autobot's chassis, purring at the warm thrum of the Spark pulsing just underneath his hands.

"_Yesss…" _Soundwave sighs. Hands digging in between the jagged seams of the mech's shoulders, anchoring them together. Brushing his battle mask against Red Alert's throat, _"Do not think of __**him**__. Think of me. And look only at __**me**__."_


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Blades and Electricity 

Author: dreamerchaos

Rating: PG-13 ish. 

Disclaimer: Transformers is owned by Hasbro. Not mine, sadly.

Pairings: Hinted. SideswipexPerceptor. JoltxPerceptor. SideswipexJoltxPerceptor. 

Summary: Based off the characters from 'Revenge of the Fallen'. Beware of possible Spoilers.

Note: Sequel to my Movie Drabbles. Also stemming from a conversation with TaintedTamer and tiptoetile about some characters. It essentially came to my notice how little was seen of Sideswipe, and especialy moreso Jolt in the ROFT movie. Soooooo…This just gives my muses a whooole bunch of excuses to play a big part in one of my fics. Darn my brain and the random pairings that pop up without my intentions. =3

The organics are the first to speak about the silver mech's…fascination with their newest arrival. Sam sharing a glance with Mikaela, the two observing the Autobot team, their attention solely on one particular pair as the tall, lean cobalt and red Autobot steps outside the military bunker, his steps so precise and…strangely delicate for a being so massive, compared to the organics. Perceptor striding just behind the Autobot medic, dark face turned towards Ratchet as they quietly converse in low Cybertronian.

From behind the medic and the scientist, a tall gleaming silver mech darts past the twins, and Perceptor is smoothly circled, Sideswipe grinning and expertly spinning in a complete perfect ring around the intellectual mech. His rounded pedes keep his lean frame balanced, a fine line from looking completely ridiculous as his tire wheels spin with negligent grace as the front liner continues to shadow the microscope.

"Weird." Sam says, noting the wise yet flustered look Perceptor throws toward the front liner, "Sideswipe's been acting kind of funny since Percy showed up."

Bumblebee ― sitting beside his small friends ― chirps with amusement.

"What?" Sam demands, "What's so funny?" He mock glares at the yellow warrior.

Mikaela smiles, rolling her eyes, wearing the expression sadly commiserating her boyfriend for being as dense as a brick, "Sideswipe likes him." She kindly informs him.

"Oookay..."

Again Mikaela turns her gaze skyward, asking for patience, "Sideswipe likes, _likes _him."

"…Wait." Sam nearly gives himself whiplash, flinging his head around to gape at his Autobot guardian, "You mean―"

Bumblebee hummed, vocoder crackling with static before he speaks, "Sideswipe is…head over heels over Perceptor, as the saying goes." The yellow guardian tilts his helm, pondering the horrified look on his human's face, "You…do not approve?"

Sam flaps his arms up and down, backpedaling, "Wait. It's…okay, it's not a big deal…I'm just spazzing. Sideswipe likes Perceptor. It's…just a bit sudden."

"Is is because of human preconceptions about relationships among entities you designate as 'males' cohabitating or interface with another male?"

"No!" Sam shudders at the the disapproving look he receives from Mikaela, "Look, as long as everyone is consenting adults…err…mechs…then no big. But…_Sideswipe_? He hasn't even known Perceptor for that long!"

Ratchet has continued walking towards the small party of the two humans and one Autobot, leaving Perceptor to sort out Sideswipe as he saw fit, "It is not unusual for one of our kind to become enthralled with another entity, even when it is the first meeting." The medic drops down onto one knee so that the humans need to crane their necks far back to look upon him, "And from what I have seen, Jolt has given his approval for Sideswipe to court Perceptor."

Mikaela perked up at the mention of the blue Autobot, "So…Jolt and Sideswipe?"

"Bondmates." Ratchet updates the young female on the status of his fellow Autobots, "It is not unusual for Cybertronians to form a trine. Not too common either. However, it is looked upon as a great honor and joy if a bonded pair finds another who fits into harmony with them. While myself and Ironhide do not desire a third member, if I recall, Optimus Prime, Megatron, and Starscream had been a excellent example of a trine before the Great War."

"Bleeeegh." Sam bemoans, slapping his hands over his eyes, "No, I don't want that image in my head now."

Bumblebee casually scrutinizes the courting mech and his target. The yellow warrior's sensors detecting the most minute of Sideswipe's gestures. Sideswipe arching onto the very tips of his pedes, stretching the length of his body until he was even taller than Perceptor than he usually was. The front liner's plating flexing, preening his sleek frame, widening and stretching the plates to make him appear a great dealer larger, not too dissimilar of a display that he has witnessed between the avian species on this planet when one brightly feathered partner tries to catch the eye of another.

Jolt, too, displays in front of the microscope. His thrumming hands, laced with static and electricity, would hum louder whenever Perceptor was close by. An obvious wavelength of pulses racing up his forearms, lighting the blue mech's long strong arms as the bottled lightning curl around his biceps and shoulders like hissing, writhing snakes.

Arcee chuckles at Jolt and Sideswipe's behavior while running maintenance on her sisters, her blue and purple sisters sharing knowing looks. Standing beside Arcee, Ironhide groans in annoyance, applying a cloth to the seams of his cannons to remove the stubborn compacted sections of sand that persists on adhering to his frame.

Even the twins have taken notice of what is occurring, for once toning down their banter and crude comments, usually edging around the courting party, the two young mechs' programming warning them not to interfere or upset the complicated dance.

Well… toning down their banter for a few astroseconds.

Mudflap groaned, "All this _looove _stuff is going to make me purge my tanks."

Skids echoed his twin, "Mechs making googly-eyes at one another. Ech! Get a room!"

Perceptor flinches from the crude gestures and comments, shrinking away and twitching his gaze away from the two Autobots.

Mudflap and Skids yelp when two blasts of lightning narrowly miss clipping their helms.

Sideswipe's growl sends the two running for cover, the twins zipping away in their Earth vehicle modes, speeding away to avoid the bladed mech's wrath.

"Idiots." Ratchet is unsympathetic, "Jolt could have easily fried the both of them."


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Movie Drabbles  
Author: dreamerchaos

Rating: Mature. Plug-n-play  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned by Hasbro. Not mine, sadly.  
Summary: Based off the characters from 'Revenge of the Fallen'. Beware of possible Spoilers.

SoundwavexPerceptor (TF2)

Bonds

*Warning: **Tentacles**

The Decepticon did not anticipate stumbling across a lone Autobot while upon his scans of various orbitting planets in search of Megatron.

He settled upon the small dust ball of a planet, easily circumventing the small scientist's perimeter scanners, the delicately red and cobalt plated Autobot scrounging through piles of debris, the remains of his small shuttle and instruments that had suffered a hard landing when breaking through the planet's heavy atmosphere.

It is too easy to swoop upon the hapless mech. The microscope's vocoder squealing in alarm, small hands clawing and beating at his face and protruding mandible, legs flailing and snapping against his thicker torso as he bore him to the rough ground.

Soundwave allows a wave of humor to trickle past his denta. Amused by the Autobot's audacity: Thinking that he could possibly offer forth some semblance of positive resistance.

He is eager to investigate this trembling, feisty creature.

The Autobot wails in surprise, then terror, as the Decepticon's tentacles slither forth from between his plating. The red and cobalt microscope bucking and twitching feebly beneath the hitching, probing tentacles prodding at his transformation seams. Hands weakly beating against his larger chassis, cries muffled when one of Soundwave's tentacles smoothly slides between his metal lips, muffling his prey's whimpers.

Soundwave's vocoder ripples with a satisfied growl, curled over the still resisting mech, taloned hands clenching upon the microscope's hands, pinning them beside the mech's helm. The Autobot arching, jerking as the thicker tentacles pierce and weave in between the larger seams of his sides, forcing his thighs to spread wide, smaller tentacles tickling and pushing into the smaller caves of his hip.

Soundwave snarls in a mixture of pleasure and pain when the Autobot harshly bites down on the tentacle slithering down the innards of his throat, coughing and hacking when the Decepticon tears the appendage free, leaving a wash of lubricant and energon from the torn metal, savaged by the Autobot's denta. Twisting around to stumble onto his hands and knees, the microscope tries to feebly crawl away, the tentacles still piercing him, anchoring the mech while he drags grooves into the dirt when he is unperturbedly dragged back towards his assailant.

"Do Not Resist." Soundwave pulls the mech into his embrace, the Autobot's sobbing for his compatriots while the Decepticon binds their distinct forms tighter, together welded by the pulsing, seething mass of tentacles, the tips adhering into the microscope's systems and components, intimately familiarizing the Decepticon with the Autobot's processor and personality matrix, "This Connection Will Not Be Severed."

Soundwave/Perceptor (TF2)

Parasite

Perceptor joins his Autobot brothers on the small, crystal blue and green planet. Hailing Optimus Prime and the others when he steps out of the humans' aerial travel unit, the 'carrier jet', as they call it. Greeting allies when he steps onto base.

Optimus Prime, after allowing the scientist to reaffirm his bonds with Ratchet and the others, quietly seeks Perceptor's attention, "Perceptor, may I speak with you in private?"

The scientist's fuel tank churn, but he swallows his nervousness. Half knowing and dreading what is to come.

Away from the prying eyes of the small humans and the sensitive audios of their fellow Cybertronians, Optimus gently guides the microscope to sit upon a boulder, while the Prime bows before him, blue optics firmly assessing the mech seated before him, "You are unwell."

It is not a question.

"I…had an encounter with a Decepticon, before receiving your hail for your soldiers to rendezvous on this planet."

"…and?"

Perceptor locks his hands together, curling the quaking ball upon his lap, "And…he…Soundwave.." He turns his helm away in shame.

"_Stop!" He can not continue this charade of intimacy, time and again the mech is too cruel to once again force his way into the Autobot's systems. Tentacles coiled and weaving underneath his plating._

_Soundwave groans, hunched over the smaller mech. Large taloned hands curled over the micrscope's shoulders and helm as, once again, he invades the smaller mech. Tentacles eagerly dipping in and interlocking around his joints, cables, and components._

_The Decepticon is enraptured ― almost driven to madness ― by the frame curled against his. The Autobot a strangely perfect fit, in sync with his internal systems, a peculiar sensation, like a warm cocoon that enwraps them both._

_Perceptor loses track of the orns he is forced to endure the Decepticon's invasive touches, soon too tired to offer more than a pathetic show of resistance. Usually falling upon the fail-safe technique of lying back and allowing the Decepticon his pleasure until the mech overloads, tentacles flexing deeper, intertwining further and locking the two mechs together. A period of time that the microscope despises even more than the act of interface, since the Decepticon refuses to relinquish the Autobot, even while within recharge, large arms and many tentacles curled possessively around him._

"I'm infected." Perceptor clutches a hand upon the lower chamber of his chassis. Shuddering in disgust, "Soundwave…He is obsessed. So much so that he planted one of his creations inside of me." He shoulders rattle as he laughs sharply with broken humor, _"He planted a parasite inside of me._ He said I was so perfect. I could bear his offspring with no ill harm. He was so **proud**. Like he had accomplished some sort of great glory. It made me sick when he would trace his talons over my chamber, listening to the sound of his creation rattling underneath my plating."

The Prime rests his hand upon the mech's trembling shoulder, "We will speak to Ratchet," The large Autobot leader whispers to sooth the microscope of his pain and furious indignation, "I am certain Ratchet can assist in removing this…whatever is inside of you."

Perceptor allows the Prime to guide him onto his pedes, curling against the warm safety of the Autobot's chassis, "It won't stop him." The scientist whispers, "Even if you cut away the infection, Soundwave will still remain its source. He's _obsessed_. I've already bore two parasites before now, and he carries them within the safety of his chassis. Any procedure or surgery won't be enough to thwart him."

"We will see." Optimus Prime refuses to surrender so easily, escorting the crestfallen scientist as he walks them towards Ratchet's medical ward, "Let us concern ourselves with the most immediate concern. Then leave Soundwave to me."

BarricadexProwl (TF2007)

Chase

Prowl sped out of the city, leading the Decepticon away from the stray human civilians who dove out of the way as the Saleen Mustang screeched down the streets, sirens screaming as he closely tailed the Autobot SIC.

The Autobot tactician leads the Decepticon into the desert, the beads of light posts dropping behind them as they reach triple digit speed.

Once far enough away, Prowl makes a genuine effort and attempts to comm for backup from the other Autobots. His communications fail, and the Autobot growls, realizing that he has inadvertently fallen for Barricade's trap. The Decepticon's proximity and infernal systems creating a communication black out throughout the surrounding area.

Prowl accedes that the chase is in Barricade's favor. Smoothing into a wide slide, throwing dirt and pebbles in a dusty wave, he spins about, transforming into bipedal mode to meet his pursuer halfway.

Barricade does not disappoint.

His wheels brake hard, and he twists into his alternate mode, somersaulting and flipping over Prowl, hands snagging the Autobot's shoulders, and both crash hard onto the dirt and hard soil.

Prowl groans softly as his doorwings are folded sharply beneath the weight of his pinned back. Locking his hands around Barricade's neck, lips pulled back in a snarl as he glares into the Decepticon's jagged, leering face.

Barricade nuzzles Prowl's throat, ignoring the threat of tightening fingers. "Tease." He purrs, growling and snagging his long sharp denta along the length of his brother's throat.

Prowl tugged sharply at a stray cable, earning a sharp snarl and an answering nip from his darker painted brother, "If you wanted my attention, then you should no better than to endanger the organics." Cerulean optics glare at the Decepticon in disapproval.

"But you always respond so promptly." Barricade chuckles, settling against his pinned brother. Gliding and arching against the SIC, earning an reaction, the rattling shudder and the narrowing of blue optics as Prowl rocks against him in tempo. Red optics narrowed in delighted mirth, "You can never ignore me for long, brother."

Megatron/Optimus Prime (TF2)

Brother

_The bereft look upon Optimus Prime's facial plating as the weapon activates, gives Megatron great pleasure. Looming behind the Prime as he falls onto his knees, Megatron leans close, watching the spectacle in awe as the towering weapon fires, piercing the planet's sun, beginning the harvesting process._

"_Beautiful, isn't it?" Megatron purrs into his audio, long sharp fingers curling around his brother's shoulders. Grinning against the gleaming blue paint of the Prime's tall antennae, molding his greater bulk against his brother's back._

_A mournful, low trill trickles from behind the Prime's battle mask. Watching as the sun ever so slightly flickers, turning a malevolent ruby above them._

_It is not very long before the sun is swallowed by darkness. As the light fades, Optimus Prime falls like a broken marionette into Megatron's arms, helm falling back against the Decepticon leader's shoulders, face awash by the gleamed red optics as Megatron curls around him as the planet is engulfed in pitch black._

On the planet where the _Nemesis _rests, Megatron's soldiers deposit their prisoners within the small, but swiftly growing city that is budding around the massive ship's shadow. The Decepticons eager to rebuild _something _that reminded them of Cybertron while the energon gathering process continued, until they had enough fuel to give their planet life once more.

A rare few of the Autobots offer resistance. Too many defeated by the sight of the planet Earth turning into a cold, dark gravitating husk of its former self.

Optimus Prime is no longer a contest. Megatron feels no worry in locking the former leader within the sconces of his private quarters ― more for the comatose Prime's sake, since Megatron was irked by the too frequent glances that Starscream threw in the direct of the silent Autobot.

Megatron returns to the chamber of his master, stepping towards the seated Fallen. "All has gone according to plan."

The Fallen grinned, hissing with mirth, "After so long…finally I have attained what was hidden away from me for all this time."

"What of Prime, Master?"

The Fallen tilted his helm, assessing his apprentice. "I doubt he is a threat to me any longer." He admits, pondering the status of his remaining descendant, "He is bereaved by his failure. A wound that may never heal."

His master's smile drags a shiver up Megatron's back strut, "But that is not the answer you truly seek, is it?" The Fallen purrs knowingly.

"Master?"

The Fallen chuckles darkly, "I have seen the way that you look at him." The mech drums his long, oily black and burning red fingers upon the arm of his throne, coolly assessing the Decepticon.

"…I only wonder if you will allow him to remain unharmed." Megatron admits.

The Fallen's optics narrow, a rare show of anger slowly flickering across his facial plating, "I am not unaware of the attachment you have to your _brother_. Such a bond is not foreign to me." He hisses coldly, "While my brothers were fools to devote their Sparks and sacrifice themselves to protect those miserable organic creatures, they were still **mine**."

The Fallen shrunk into his seat, his next words a low whisper, "What fools…If only they had listened to reason…my Primes. My brothers. Mine…"

He lifted his head, rattling his shoulders as if to shake off the ill thoughts that consumed his processor, "He is yours now, Megatron. Touch him. Embrace him. Swallow him whole and fill his well to the _brim_." The Fallen grinned wide, knowingly eyeing the Decepticon, not blind to the lust that burned so fiercely in the leader's gaze, "You are the conqueror, and his is your prize. Enjoy him well."

Megatron bowed, lowering his helm in deference to the great gift laid upon him, "Thank you, my master."

The Fallen waved him away, "Go," He commands, "Your attention is elsewhere now. Do not bore me by pretending otherwise."

The Decepticon does not fail to disappoint. Taking to his alternate mode, blasting through the thick gouge in the _Nemesis_'s hull, impatient to return to his brother and affirm his reunion with the Prime who had for so long resisted and shunned him.

They had so much time now to correct the eons and badges that separated them for so long.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary: Only two this time…**

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* * *

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**Swoop and Perceptor – G1 Universe**

Perceptor settled his data pad upon his desk when two thick arms slide around his waist. The larger mech melts against his back, Swoop's purrs and chirps tickle his neck as the Dinobot wraps around his smaller mate.

"Did you have a good flight?" Perceptor twines his fingers with the pterodactyl's as he leans back deeper into Swoop's embrace.

Swoop hums with pleasure from the mixture of the scientist's solid weight and the warmth of memory, "Swoop loves to dive and slice through clouds. Clouds tickle Swoop's wings like little fingers."

Perceptor grins, CPU painted with the data image of his partner's exultant laughter as he bobs and twists amongst the cotton puffs and Easter blue sky.

"Sun setting real soon," Swoop nuzzles the scientist and presses his lips to Perceptor's cheek, silver derma brushing the darker dermal layers, "Perceptor come outside to watch sunset with Swoop?"

"Yes. I would love to." Perceptor accepts the gesture of a hand stretched out in proposal, the smaller mech laying his hand within the much stronger grip as he is gently but firmly levered out of his chair and onto his feet.

* * *

**Megatron and Optimus Prime – 2009 Universe**

"_Brother…"_

Optimus fails to twitch or respond to his silver brother. Limbs crusted with aged black soil and the ash of the humans charred by the Decepticon guns, the large Autobot hangs his head between his shoulders, hands curled between his knees as he sits upon the top of the hill. Bleak, glittering blue optics never waver from their constant, loyal observation of the crumbled ruins of the human city, the monoliths of tumbled buildings and miniature fires dot the dead city like bullion and ruby stars, the pearl of the glowing moon chilling the soil with its cold light.

The ivory twilight lighting the cold dead corpses of the centuries old monuments and cracked glass windows of the once beautiful capital.

Megatron strides up the hill to join his brother. In his hand, as he has done for the last orn upon endless orn, he clasps a cube of glowing energon.

"_Brother."_ The tyrant beseeches the silent mech. Megatron curls his long wicked claws against his brother's unresponsive face, gently brushing the back of his talons along a ridged cheek, "…Optimus."

Again, as time before, the Prime does not flinch nor does he lean forward to accept the offering from the large Decepticon as Megatron kneels before him, silver hands proffer the humming vessel of lavender energon.

"_Optimus," _Megatron beseeches, incessantly trying to coax the Prime to wrap his slack hands around the cube, "You must intake energon before you fall into stasis lock." Megatron narrowly manages to capture the precious cube when the vessel slips from between limp fingers. The large mech growls with annoyance as he slides and wrestles the marionette arms into a more suitable position.

The Prime's gaze fails to waver, staring firmly above Megatron's broad shoulder all the while his brother finally manages to curl his fingers around the cube of energon.

"Why won't you look at me?!" Megatron's voice rises into a howl, his thread of patience frayed beyond measure. He curls his hands around Optimus' wrists, grinds his fingers to the point where he knows that he is causing his brother an immense stab of pain. Ruby optics bore upwards, glaring up at the discounting face, "Why will you not shout and curse me, brother? Why will you not strike me or shove me away?"

The only sound that echoes the backhanded slap is the shriek of metal, a shiny glistening of mercury against ivory as the Prime tumbles off his seat and onto his side, the energon cube rolling to the wayside as Megatron leaps forward and follows his brother to the ground.

Megatron straddles his Prime, hands curled over Optimus', pressing the dark palms against the jagged edges of his face and mandible. "Rend me to pieces, Optimus. Make me bleed. Do something, _anything_ to give me proof of acknowledgement!" Megatron's talons curl and slice into his own dermal flesh as he drags the Prime's lax fingertips down his own face, the large tyrant pressed against his silent brother.

"……" Optimus' head lolls, broken and defeated against the curl of his shoulder, otherwise unmoved by his brother's pleas and threats, the Prime a frozen, empty testament of vast disappointment and betrayal after Megatron and his master the Fallen had claimed the Earth's sun.

When the Prime's Autobot brothers and sisters had waged a fruitless last battle before they succumbed and fell to their knees in defeat, the Prime remained silent and indifferent, a lone giant who responded to neither friend nor enemy. Even when Megatron had approached him, prepared to gloat and bask in his victory, the Prime did not waver. Much to his brother's confusion and horror, the tyrant realized the Prime's intentions.

"_Say something!" Megatron shoves him back, the motion forces the Prime to stumble and drop onto his posterior. The larger tyrant snarls at Starscream and Soundwave to stay back, the silver mech shoving his talons deep between the plates of the Prime's shoulders, "Look at me! Damn you, Prime. Why won't you acknowledge me?!"_

They both knew that this was the cruelest of acts for the Prime to deliver upon his brother.

Megatron's jaw trembles against his neck as the large tyrant curls upon his brother. Nestled into the warmth of the Prime, Megatron clings to him like they would when they were younglings, "Optimus…" Megatron weaves his hands behind the Prime's helm and gently tilts the mech's head back.

Lax lips coolly spread beneath the first chaste kiss. Megatron delves in for a second time, his touch far more harsh. Teeth hook and snag the Prime's lips, stirring beads of energon to pour from the torn metal flesh.

"I won't let you cast me aside," Megatron swears with dark promise, glossa snaking out to lap at the glisten of fluids, patiently swiping up the steady flow of energon that stains his brother's lips and chin, "I don't care if it takes over a millenia for you to awaken from your induced comatose state. I will be waiting."


End file.
